


IBDC: Between Heaven and Hell

by moonstalker24



Series: The Itty Bitty Ditty Committee [7]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Assume they're off doing Ragnarok things, Civil War Team Iron Man, F/M, Gen, Iron Family, Irondad, No Hulk or Thor, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Off-Screen but Implied, Peter Parker Calls Tony Stark "Dad", Post-Black Panther (2018), Stark family feels, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Wanda Maximoff is a Horrible Person, dad tony stark, steve rogers is an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22957906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonstalker24/pseuds/moonstalker24
Summary: There’s a sort of poetry to the pain that lances through him. A sort of slow burn that is usually associated with strong alcohol and certain types of recreational narcotics. It radiates out from his chest. Throbbing through him in pulses every time his lungs expand. He can feel the sharp spines of gold-titanium alloy digging into his flesh. The crackle-shift of broken ribs moving into places they shouldn’t be.He's going to die this time. He can feel his extremities getting colder, heavier. Knows that the armor is only slowing the blood loss, not stopping it.Tony Stark is left to die in a bunker in Siberia. His family doesn't like that at all. As they rally around him, so does the rest of the world, forcing the Rogue Avengers to face the consequences of their actions.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Series: The Itty Bitty Ditty Committee [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/263485
Comments: 35
Kudos: 873
Collections: Fics that make my heart go OOF with fluff, Lovely Pieces, Works worth reading a million times over





	IBDC: Between Heaven and Hell

**Author's Note:**

> My feelings about Civil War are complicated to say the least. I have very strong feelings about Tony and the whole Iron Family thing. I honestly started this fic sometime after Infinity War came out when I realized that I was still salty about Civil War. It was supposed to be a cathartic express my feelings thing, but then it turned into an Irondad thing with justice for all. I read a lot of post-CW fics that helped me process stuff. It turned into this monstrosity, which was both cathartic and fun to write.
> 
> The version of T'Challa that I've used here is the capable ruler owning his actions version. I adore him and I hope I did him justice.
> 
> I have complicated feelings about Natasha. It really depends on the characterization used for her. I truly believe that at the end of the day she wants to do the right thing, she just doesn't know how most of the time.
> 
> Song used is: Between Heaven and Hell by Rob Saffi. Yes, it is the opening music for Paranormal Lockdown. No, I'm not ashamed to say I enjoy that show.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I own nothing Avengers. Music belongs to Rob Saffi.

**Between Heaven and Hell**

(Tony Endures, [between heaven and hell – rob saffi](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ubRJR3QFZA))

_“I’ve seen the way, through all the pain_

_I’ve walked through darkness, fire and rain_

_They fill my grave but still my soul remains_

_Here between heaven and hell_

_Those brimstone fires burn at my feet,_

_While angel choirs sing out of reach._

_Now still I wait to hear my name called home_

_Here between heaven and hell_

_“Here between heaven and hell_

_Here between heaven and hell…”_

There’s a sort of poetry to the pain that lances through him. A sort of slow burn that is usually associated with strong alcohol and certain types of recreational narcotics. It radiates out from his chest. Throbbing through him in pulses every time his lungs expand. He can feel the sharp spines of gold-titanium alloy digging into his flesh. The crackle-shift of broken ribs moving into places they shouldn’t be.

He's going to die this time. He can feel his extremities getting colder, heavier. Knows that the armor is only slowing the blood loss, not stopping it.

He stares up at the cracked cement ceiling, his hazy vision crawling along the ice piled up along edges and in crevices. Ignores the glint of shiny metal and the tang of coppery blood in the air. His own blood.

_“I can do this all day.”_

Fuck you, Rogers, he thinks. Fuck your self-righteous, sniveling, condescending _horseshit._

A cough wracks him, the pain increases tenfold and his vision goes gray for a long moment, black spots dancing before his eyes. Whoever said your life flashes before your eyes when you die was a dirty, dirty liar. He’s not reliving his life in flashes. All he’s doing is feeling his life slip away as his sense of betrayal and hatred grows.

He’s not sure how long he lays there, unable to move. Too wounded to find the exterior releases on the armor. Even if he could lift a hand to reach them, he wouldn’t. His beautiful armor is the only thing keeping his life from coloring the snow crimson. He’s not an idiot, not even close. Somehow, he knew it would come to this. Knew his armor would become his coffin.

It’s just really fucking sad that he’s allowed it to happen so soon.

He should have listened to Pepper, to Rhodey, to Happy. Should have stopped letting his guilt over his failures and his PTSD cripple him to the point of allowing people that _were never_ his friends (they proved that with Ultron) walk all over him.

“Sir,” a calm, cultured voice speaks as if down a long tunnel.

He smiles, Jarvis. His lost child. The only one he failed to protect came for him. It’s fitting, Jarvis being the one to escort him to whatever hell awaits him. His brain feels thick, the spots in his vision are bigger. A red face (beloved despite it all) blocks his view of the concrete ceiling. Not Jarvis. Vision. His youngest boy.

“Hi baby boy,” he manages to croak out. A small, pained smile crosses the red face of the synthezoid. “Don’t look sad,” he whispers, trying to comfort him. “It’ll be okay.”

Something flickers in those eyes, those strange, strange eyes. “Yes, Father, it will,” Vision tells him seriously. “Rest now, I’m here to take you home.”

Oh, good. He’s so tired. He lets his eyes close and he drifts.

*

The concrete under Vision’s hand cracks under the pressure he applies in an attempt to keep himself from lashing out. Tony’s eyes flutter closed, and Vision breathes a deep, calming breath. He carefully lines the three syringes that Pepper had given him up on the ground next to his father. Then he reaches for the release catches on the armor. It peels away from Tony with a horrible sucking sound. Vision watches with a blank face as giant shards of metal extract themselves from Tony’s flesh.

Vision reaches for the first vial of Extremis and injects it directly into Tony’s heart. Then he extracts the man from the rest of the armor. The second syringe is injected into his left femoral artery. The third is injected into the right. Vision settles the body onto the hovering backboard he'd brought with him. He guides it out of the bunker and across the frozen tundra to the quinjet.

The gurney locks into place with a metallic hiss. Vision reaches for the scissors and begins the laborious process of cutting Tony out of his clothes. Once he finishes he uses tweezers to meticulously pull any debris from the wounds. Then he cleans the wounds carefully as Friday quietly helps him the best she can while simultaneously hacking and downloading everything she can get her vicious digital hands on from the bunker.

Once Tony’s wounds are bandaged and he’s wrapped in a thick blanket, Vision carefully packs away the medical supplies.

“Extremis is working,” Friday’s voice says as soon as she has confirmation. “I’ll let Mama and Uncle Rhodey know.”

Vision nods, “Please. I will retrieve the armor and any physical evidence and then we will be on our way home.”

“Dr. Cho is already en-route. She’ll be ready when you get here.”

Vision collects the destroyed armor, the arm of the Winter Soldier and the Captain’s shield. He collects pictographic evidence of the dead Winter Soldiers in their cryotubes and the laptop that Zemo used to destroy whatever trust Tony had had left with Steven Rogers.

The quinjet rises into the air before an hour has passed since its arrival.

The wind howls through the empty bunker.

*

Virginia Potts is not a forgiving woman. Oh, she’s perfectly kind and congenial so long as you haven’t betrayed her or someone she loves. After that though, the gloves come off. She has very few people she loves. She loves her mother, Jim, Happy. Her heart beats for Tony Stark and the passel of robotic (and one human) children he’s built himself or adopted over the years.

People always forget about that. The children. Because most of them aren’t human; because they’re machines. Every single one of them is a learning AI. Every single one of them can pass the Turing Test without effort. They are all smart, they all know. The difference between Jarvis, Friday and the bots is that Jarvis and Friday were built to learn exponentially faster and have had the internet and the knowledge of the world at their virtual fingertips since the beginning. The bots have to learn the hard way.

And then there’s Harley Keener. The fourteen-year-old boy from Tennessee that calls Tony ‘Dad’ without even an ounce of sarcasm. That never misses a single weekly video call or long weekend engineering binge. Anna Keener had allowed Tony to adopt her son after the first two years. He’s got joint custody of the boy, even if he lives full-time with his mother.

So Tony Stark has six children (seven, if Jarvis was alive). He’s been a father since he was fifteen years old when Dum-E first came online in 1987. It’s his most defining feature.

Pepper knew exactly what she was getting into when she accepted Tony’s advances. She’d chosen to love an eccentric genius with a half-dozen children. She’d chosen to love him, including the part of him that made him Iron Man.

So it’s no surprise that as soon as Friday informs her that she’s lost contact with Tony because Steve Rogers is beating him to hell that Pepper goes on the warpath.

While Vision goes to get Tony, and Friday hacks the world and begins collecting evidence, Pepper activates the international powerhouse that she is CEO of. She drafts a memo to the entire company, informing every employee that their beloved (and there’s no doubt that everyone that works for Stark Industries loves their eccentric CTO) Head of Research and Development has been betrayed and is in critical condition.

By the time that Vision gets to Siberia, SI is globally working together. Legal and PR are already on the ground and running with the ball.

Pepper uses every backchannel and legal pathway to make what she is about to do one-hundred percent above board and unimpeachable. Every scrap of evidence that Tony has been building up to go head to head with Thaddeus Ross is unleashed and presented to the right authorities to get him out of power. By the time Vision confirms that Tony is alive, a specialized unit is taking the man into custody.

Pepper watches the Siberia videos with increasing fury that cools only when Friday confirms that Extremis is working. By then, she’s melted two holes through her desk and set off the fire suppression system in her office.

“Ms. Potts?” her secretary’s voice is uncertain, but calm.

Pepper looks up. Veronica is standing in the doorway, and she can see Happy just outside, already calling off the sprinklers and building security. “Veronica, please get me Christine Everhart and the British representative to the UN. Teleconference them into my conference room as soon as you can, please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Veronica says and turns to go. She quickly sends Pepper’s second secretary to get their boss dry clothes. Ruby goes without question. They’ve both read their CEO’s memo, and they both adore Tony. Both of them aspire to the kind of love their boss and the name of the company share.

Veronica makes the phone calls necessary. Everhart is in New York, and opts to come physically. She’ll arrive in twenty minutes. Lady Rathbone’s secretary consults with her boss and the Ambassador agrees to the teleconference in thirty minutes when Veronica impresses the urgency of the matter upon her.

By the time Miss Everhart is riding the elevator up to the eighty-sixth floor of Stark Tower, Pepper is once more impeccable in a designer suit and her signature Louboutin heels with crimson soles. Her jacket and skirt are pinstriped with gold and she’s wearing the Iron Man red bangles that Tony gave her for her birthday.

Only she knows that they’ll summon Rescue, the armor that Tony built for her.

She greets Everhart with a warm handshake as Veronica and Ruby finish setting up the conference call. “Thank you for coming so quickly, Miss Everhart.”

“Please, it’s Christine,” the reporter returns. “I have to say you’ve got my curiosity peaked.”

Pepper smiles and the expression is nowhere near friendly. As the call connects to the UN Accords representative with the most pull (and some of the best morals), Pepper speaks with a tone in her voice that indicates just how serious this is, “Let me make myself perfectly clear so no misunderstandings happen. Everything you are about to witness is on the record. You will be provided with copies of everything I’m about to present to her Excellency. You will not ask any questions until after all of this is done.”

“I understand,” Christine says, and sits down at the table. She sets up her recorder and her tablet so that she can take notes.

“Your Excellency,” Pepper addresses the ambassador, “I apologize for the hour, and the interruption, but something has happened that cannot wait.”

“What is it?” Lady Rathbone asks eyes sharp and flickering from Pepper to the two secretaries to the reporter.

“Twelve hours ago Steven Rogers attempted to murder Tony Stark.”

The silence that follows Pepper’s statement is absolute and shocked. Pepper drives on. She succinctly and clearly describes the situation. She tells them about Zemo’s lure to Rogers about the other Winter Soldiers that he shared with no one. About Tony going to Siberia in an effort to help and to stave off a head hunt. Then she shares the videos.

The first is a recording from the Iron Man suit of Tony’s arrival, meeting with Rogers and Barnes up to the confrontation with Zemo.

The second is the actual footage of the assassination of Howard and Maria Stark.

The third is a side by side of two videos, one from the suit and the other a compilation taken from the bunker security cameras. It shows Tony, Rogers and Barnes watching the footage. Shows Tony’s pain and shock. Shows Rogers caught in his lie. The brutal fight that follows.

The fourth is Vision’s point of view upon finding Tony and a report on his medical status.

After a few minutes of silence, Lady Rathbone speaks, “I need everything, Miss Potts.”

“A copy of all digital recordings and evidence is already being couriered to you, your Excellency,” Pepper replies. “Vision has collected as much physical evidence as possible, but I suggest having an Accords team sent out to collect the bodies of the Winter Soldiers.”

“I will. What is Dr. Stark’s current condition?”

“Critical. Dr. Helen Cho will arrive in six hours with the Cradle and she’s already familiar with Tony’s medical history. Vision is en-route with Tony, who is stable for now. He’ll arrive an hour after Dr. Cho.” Pepper pauses here, her lips thinning into a bloodless line. “I want to make this perfectly clear, your Excellency. I am aware that King T’Challa has taken Mr. Zemo into custody, and am willing to stand aside in the investigation of his crimes. However, I insist that one of my lawyers be in the loop on all proceedings, as we will be pressing charges.

Additionally, I believe that King T’Challa may have knowledge of where Rogers and Barnes may have gone. He, at minimum, may have seen which direction they went in. I want him questioned.”

“Believe me, he will be,” the Ambassador replies, face grim. Her eyes flicker to the silent reporter, “I assume all of this will be made public.”

Christine speaks up now, her face equally grim. She may think Tony’s an ass, but she likes him. “Within the next four hours, your Excellency.”

Lady Rathbone signs off, and Pepper takes a drink from her glass of water, her attention moving to Christine.

“Do you want them broiled or fricasseed?” Christine asks.

Pepper smiles grimly, “I want them flayed alive. Carte blanche. Tony won’t like the video of his parents being made public, but it’s necessary.”

Christine nods as she’s handed a flash drive, “By the time I’m done with them there won’t be a hole deep enough anywhere in the world for them to hide in.”

“Good.”

*

Tony wakes to the steady beeping of a heart monitor. His head is full of cotton balls. His body feels heavy. He blinks at the ceiling tiles of the medical floor of Stark Tower. He’s very familiar with this ceiling.

“Welcome back Boss,” Friday’s voice says.

Tony sighs and it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as he expected it to, “Hi baby girl.”

“You really scared us, pops,” Friday says after a long moment of hesitation.

“Sorry sweetheart,” he tells her. “Didn’t mean to.”

Friday seems to hesitate again, “You’ve been out for one-hundred and seven hours, forty-six minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Vision has been dealing with all official Avengers business, and Uncle Rhodey transferred home from the hospital in Germany yesterday. Dr. Cho deemed him capable of handling Extremis, so he’s going through the process now.”

Figures, Tony thinks to himself. He knows that Extremis was used to keep him alive, it’s the only way he could possibly _be_ alive. “The boys and your mother?” he asks.

“The boys are currently attempting a jailbreak,” Friday relays readily enough. “And Mama’s gone to war against the Rogues and anyone that stands in her way.”

“Make ‘em work for it, but let them out,” Tony says. Pepper’s gone to war, that means – “Video evidence public knowledge?”

“Yes Boss.”

He sighs again as the door swishes open and Vision steps into the room. He’s wearing one of his beloved sweater-vests and a mildly concerned expression. An annoyed looking Helen Cho follows after him and promptly starts an examination of her patient.

Tony knows he’s lucky as Vision greets him and Helen starts walking him through where he’s at physically. If Vision had arrived five minutes later he’d have been dead. If Friday didn’t have a response time of less than a second, he’d be dead. If that shield had hit just an inch and a half higher he’d have been decapitated.

He’s still in excruciating pain, but it’s tolerable to his skewed pain tolerance. There’s nothing like experiencing open heart surgery without anesthetic to put a few broken ribs and a crushed artificial sternum into perspective.

“You’re not getting out of that bed until the bones finish knitting,” Helen orders and she examines his hands for any remaining signs of frostbite. “Extremis is working like a champ, but the sheer amount of damage you came in with… Tony.”

“I know,” Tony says. “I do know, Helen. I promise not to get out of bed until you let me. Vision here will make sure of it.” Vision nods seriously. Tony isn’t going anywhere.

“I’m serious here, Tony,” Helen impresses on him. “Two weeks in bed, minimum. Three to six months of physical therapy before you even think about stepping into the suit. A year before you’re back to a hundred percent.”

“I swear,” Tony says, and he means it. He’s done taking the shit thrown at him. He’s going to rest. He’s going to make his kids, his Pepper and his Rhodey happy. He’ll do everything Helen tells him, even if he hates every minute of it. “How long until I can be in the lab? We both know I’ll go batshit insane if I can’t tinker while I’m grounded.”

“Eight weeks,” Helen decides. “I want your ribs as close to a hundred percent as we can get before you wander around tinkering with anything. I’ll let you go at six weeks if you promise not to lift anything heavier than a small wrench.”

Tony lifts his right hand with difficulty. Just raising it up past his torso is exhausting. “I swear,” he says. “And Friday will tattle on me if I try anything, won’t you baby girl?”

“Yes I will,” Friday says primly.

Helen studies him for a long time before she nods once. She takes a seat in the chair by the bed, “Okay. Let’s go over where you’re at.”

“Hit me, Doc.”

“Thirteen broken or cracked ribs, six shattered. The artificial sternum was completely obliterated. I’ve pulled as much debris from the sternum and ribs out as I could, stabilized everything else and set in a new sternum. Extremis is working on knitting your torso back together, but between the bones, the damage to your internal organs and muscle tissues, three days just isn’t going to cut it.

Recovery rate is good, and it looks like Extremis will incorporate the new sternum and regrow the missing bits of any ribs, but it’s going to hurt like hell. It also looks like the virus is working on re-growing and restructuring your lungs back to full capacity, so you’ll probably spend a lot of time short of breath or feeling like your lungs are full of fluid.

The tendons and ligaments around your left kneecap were severed when the suit was caved in around it, Extremis is working on it, but seems to have prioritized your torso. You had severe frostbite in both hands and feet, but it’s been curtailed and Extremis is repairing the damage, so you get to keep all your fingers and toes.”

Tony swallows hard, eyes flicking over to Vision, who reaches out with calm assurance and takes his hand, letting Tony squeeze the hell out of it. “Yikes.”

“Yikes is right, Tony,” Helen says.

The sheer terror that was his only companion from the second the shield came down until Vision appeared rears its head, and his heartbeat races, betrayed by the heart monitor. Vision and Helen manage to calm him down and Tony manages to keep breathing despite the coughing fit that follows on the heels of the panic attack.

“I think,” Vision intones quietly as he and Helen help him back into a comfortable position, “that is it time to call Dr. Keyworth.”

Tony breathes heavily, blinking blurrily at the ceiling for a few seconds while he registers the suggestion (order). Abraham Keyworth is a psychiatrist that had been recommended to him by Charles Xavier. He was calm, discrete and a veteran who struggled with PTSD of his own. He’d helped Tony get his head on right after Ultron when he’d found the footage that showed Wanda messing with his head the day they recovered the scepter.

His trauma had had trauma that had had kittens. Keyworth had helped him so much that Tony was able to actually _sleep._

“I think you’re right, Vis,” Tony says finally. “For me and for Rhodey.”

Vision nods, “I will call him.”

“Thanks bud,” Tony says softly. He means thank you for more than just calling the shrink. Vision recognizes it and gently squeezes his bicep. Tony turns his gaze back to Helen, “Can Rhodey be my recovery roommate, and can we have a tv with Netflix access?”

She smiles at him, “If both of you are good for the next twenty-four hours I’ll approve it.”

“Yes!” Tony would fist-pump if he knew it wouldn’t hurt like hell. “You hear that Fri? Tell Rhodey to be good so we can watch all of Star Trek.”

“You got it Boss,” Friday says cheerfully.

*

_“…With this new evidence brought forward about the creation of the Artificial Intelligence known as Ultron, an outcry has begun in many countries across the globe. Thousands have turned out to demonstrate and demand justice for Sokovia, Johannesburg and Lagos…”_

T’Challa muted the television with a sigh. He wanted to sleep, but there was still so much left to do. He was doing his best to mitigate any blowback that Wakanda might face by being as transparent with the UN Accords council as he possibly could.

He’d been horrified when he’d been informed of what Rogers and Barnes had done to Dr. Stark. He’d come clean immediately when he’d handed over Helmut Zemo to Everett Ross. He’d admitted to offering Barnes sanctuary, and how that had included Rogers due to the man’s unwillingness to let Barnes out of his sight. The Council had agreed that knowing exactly where they were was a good thing.

So T’Challa had been tasked with keeping an eye on Steven Rogers. The evidence that had been provided by Stark Industries and unearthed by the JTTF absolved Barnes of the bombing of the UN, and his actions in Siberia had been deemed self-defense (unlike Rogers’). He was still party to the destruction in Bucharest and Leipzig, but luckily for him there had been few deaths. His case was being reviewed by the ICC and the evidence and findings were being made available to the public. It looked like Barnes’ time as a POW and subsequent brainwashing by Hydra would help his case.

T’Challa had tentatively put out the suggestion that time served while Barnes remains in cryo be taken into account during sentencing.

Rogers is a different pill, and a much harder one to swallow. In the week since he came to stay in Wakanda it has become abundantly clear that the man has no idea what he’s talking about. He’s never read the Accords and doesn’t even know what the UN actually _is._ Not to mention his little field trip to the Raft.

T’Challa had been extremely unhappy when he’d heard that Rogers had gone and retrieved his friends and was expecting T’Challa to house them. He’d sat the man down and explained that sanctuary wasn’t sanctuary if you kept leaving it, risking being discovered every time you did so. He believes that Rogers gets it (to a point), and the man has no reason to leave now that his team is with him.

T’Challa had, of course, promptly reported his new visitors to the Council.

It had been agreed that having the Rogues in Wakanda where they could be monitored and yet allowed to believe they were free was better than them cutting a swathe across the world in their attempts to actually _be_ free.

It was not a situation that T’Challa liked. None of his people did, but they understood.

Okoye steps into his office, her mouth a little less drawn at the corners, and just seeing it makes T’Challa relax somewhat. She offers a soft smile, “We’ve succeeded in implementing the countermeasures for the Witch.”

T’Challa nods, “Good. Do they suspect anything?”

“Nothing,” Okoye says, her smile going sly before her expression evens out. “They have been instructed to remain within the grounds of the estate. I have done my best to impress upon them that while they remain there, they are safe. I may have exaggerated that being seen by any civilians would be bad, as we cannot know how every person feels, and one may be inclined to let the UN know where they are.”

T’Challa snorts, “Thank you, Okoye. I know you dislike this.”

She shrugs, “It is what it is. You owed the Sergeant a debt, it is not your fault that he came with five extra-large pieces of baggage. You are doing what you can to minimize the damage. We all know this.”

He smiles at her tiredly, “Truly. I thank you.”

T’Challa’s trust and faith in his people plays a pivotal role in keeping the ruse. He’s relying on Wakanda’s years of isolationism to aid him in this matter. The entire country knows, by way of royal address, that T’Challa has taken up the responsibility of containing the group of former Avengers until such a time as charges for their crimes can be levied against them. He did his best to convey his conviction to continue his father’s work with the Accords.

Hell, he’d had council with M’Baku to ask his aid in containing the threat. M’Baku hadn’t liked the thought of outsiders being in Wakanda, but T’Challa had shown him the proof of the danger the Rogues posed, and M’Baku’s sense of pride and justice had won out.

So the entire nation of Wakanda knows that the Rogues are here, and every citizen knows that the King seeks true justice for those they lost in Lagos. Justice for the destruction the Ex-Avengers have wrought on innocent people.

So long as they remain on the estate in the mountains, they are contained. Watched over by the best of the Dora Milaje and of M’Baku’s Jabari.

*

When Tony next awakes, it’s to the sight of a pair of purposefully huge brown panda eyes that express that they’re _connected._

“Hey kid,” Tony tells the eyes.

Harley pops up enough to prop his elbows on the bed next to Tony. He’s grown in the four years since they met, but he’s still got the floppy hair and the smirk that indicates that this kid is a little shit. Tony doesn’t mind, because this is _his_ kid.

“Hey old man,” Harley replies, matching Tony’s smile.

Tony huffs a breath that could be construed as a chuckle. Laughing jostles his torso too much. Harley is kind enough to follow along when Tony reaches out to pull him in for a hug. The teenager climbs onto the mattress and snuggles up carefully. He’s learned over the years just how tactile Tony really is with his kids.

“You’re not supposed to run off and nearly die, you know,” Harley says conversationally.

“Didn’t think I was,” Tony replies.

“Yeah, well, Captain America’s the world’s biggest douchebag,” Harley snarls. Tony lets him be angry because otherwise he’d be a hypocrite. “If he ever comes near you again I’m going to use Veronica to drop kick him into the sun.”

“Fair deal,” Tony answers. He knows Harley won’t actually do it, but the sentiment is appreciated. He doesn’t put it past the kid to kick Rogers in the shins though. “How’re Anna and Bonnie?”

Harley blows a raspberry. “Mom’s fine, she said to tell you get well soon and you owe her flowers for shaving a few years off her life. Bonnie’s annoying like always.”

“Friday,” Tony says to the ceiling, “send a bouquet of those fancy chocolate roses to Anna with my apologies.”

“You got it Boss,” Friday says cheerfully.

Harley reaches to the tray table and takes up the remote for the newly installed television, he turns it on and fires up Netflix, “We’re watching Voltron.”

“Okay,” Tony concedes without a fight. He feels warm and fuzzy around the place where his heart is. Harley’s taking time off school to keep him company. His kids are all safe. Pepper’s kicking ass and taking names. Rhodey’s scheduled to become his roommate tomorrow morning.

He shoves all the clutter in his brain (Rogers, Barnes, his parents, the Accords, the decimated Avengers, his terror) into a metaphorical corner to be dealt with at a later date and contents himself with the kid at his side and a cartoon about robots. It can all wait until he feels like the weight crushing him down isn’t so heavy.

*

Peter Parker likes Dr. Stark. He's a real hero. Someone who sees things when they're wrong and then _does_ something about it. Getting to know Dr. Stark has been one of the best things Peter's ever experienced. He hadn't let him down in Germany; Dr. Stark had made sure Peter knew that when he was sent home.

And then the videos came out and Peter feels like he's been punched in the gut or had a container dropped on him again. Dr. Stark was _hurt;_ he'd almost _died._ And Peter wasn't there to help him.

He waits a couple of weeks before going to the compound and sneaking in. Oh, he knows it's not actual sneaking. Friday lets him in and guides him to the medical floor and to Dr. Stark's room. Peter stands the doorway uncertainly.

"Get in here, kid," Colonel Rhodes orders, not even looking up from the pile of paperwork he's sorting through. Peter shuffles his feet, and Rhodes sighs and looks up, "C'mon, kid. You're makin' me sad."

Peter smiles sheepishly, realizes that the Colonel can't see it under the mask of the suit that Dr. Stark _gave_ him and enters the room. His head turning to look at Iron Man. Because he is Iron Man, even without the armor. He looks pale, and tired, but he doesn't look like he was almost decapitated.

"He's okay, right?" Peter asks, eyes flicking to Rhodes and back to the sleeping genius in the bed. He takes in the teenager curled up on one side of him and feels jealous. "I mean, he's going to be okay?"

"Yeah kid, he'll be fine," Rhodes tells him. "We're working with some experimental treatments, but it's looking good so far."

"And you're okay, too?"

Rhodes snorts, "I'm golden kid. The swelling in my spine is going down, and the cracked vertebrae are healing well. Doc's hopeful I'll get full mobility back."

Rhodes tosses his pen, nailing Stark in the forehead, making him come awake with a disoriented snort. "Tones, your other kid has arrived. Make him stop being so awkward."

Stark looks around blearily before his eyes land on Peter. "Shit, Underroos. Get over here," he says, and shuffles sideways a little to make room on his free side. The sleeping teen grumbles grumpily and Tony jostles him in reprimand. "Not nice, bud, now squidge over, we gotta make room for your brother."

His eyes open and peer over Tony at Spiderman, "Yeah, okay." he shuffles until the pair has made as much room as they can for him. Then Tony reaches for him.

Peter wasn't sure what to expect, but this wasn't it. The warm feeling in his chest increases as he walks over to the bed and crawls in with Dr - Tony - _Dad._ The mask comes off as Harley introduces himself. He's a year younger than Peter, but just as smart. They talk tv and movies and settle in for a continuation of the Star Trek marathon that has dominated the room the last week.

This, this is nice. It feels awesome. Peter knows that Tony will never try to replace his parents, or Aunt May or Uncle Ben or anything like that. But Tony cares, calls him his kid. Peter's got a _Dad_ , who's the best hero in the world - no the universe!

It's gonna take some getting used to (especially when War Machine himself tells him to call him Uncle Rhodey) but he thinks it'll be worth it.

Tony's gonna be okay, and Rhodey's gonna be okay, and Peter's gonna be okay (and he's got siblings, apparently!). It's all gonna be okay.

*

_"...No further reports have been given on the whereabouts of known terrorists Steve Rogers, James Barnes, Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton and Sam Wilson despite the announcement that Scott Lang, better known as Ant-Man has turned himself in to the UN._

_The announcement came as quite a surprise early this morning. The UN and ICC have announced that due to his willingness to co-operate with authorities and the fact that his crimes consist only of assault, destruction of public property and resisting arrest, that there may be a settlement out of court..."_

Steve sighs heavily and turns off the television. It had been two weeks since the videos of Siberia had been released to the public. One and a half since videographic evidence of Wanda using her mind powers on Tony and Bruce had gone viral. And one since Scott had stood up, announced that he was going home, consequences and all, and walked out.

Before he'd left Scott had promised not to reveal their location, but had washed his hands of everything. It had been made pretty clear that he had thought he was being asked to help save the world, not go against a hundred and seventeen sovereign countries. He knew about actions having consequences and justice. He'd served time in prison, and he was willing to go back if it meant that he'd be able to look his daughter in the eyes without feeling ashamed of himself.

He'd encouraged Sam to turn himself in, as well. To walk away from all the crap and get with the program. That sitting around a mansion in the mountains of Wakanda wasn't worth it if they were doing it to protect a murderer.

And that is what Steve is to Scott, now. A murderer.

It doesn't matter that Tony is alive and recovering in the hospital. Not to Scott. He'd been thoroughly disillusioned by his hero. His hero had attempted to kill Iron Man. Had lied to the man about the deaths of his _parents_ for _years._

_"You know, it's true what they say, you should never meet your heroes."_

Scott's words ring through Steve's head with a finality that makes him feel weak. Where had it all gone wrong? When had he started looking at Tony like he was an enemy? Before Ultron? After Ultron? Had they ever really been friends?

_"So was I."_

Steve cradles his head in his hands and lets a sob wrack through him. The tears slide freely into the beard he's begun to grow.

*

Rhodey is the _worst_ patient. He’s worse than _Tony,_ who’s never been able to sit still in his life. Tony has actually taken to his bed rest and light duties with alacrity. Tony’s got his kids to keep him entertained and help him be distracted from all the bullshit flying around. Rhodey doesn’t. He’s got a physical therapist that could look into the face of hell and tell it to complete twenty more reps.

With the minor boost to his system from Extremis (nowhere near what Pepper’s got, and not even a fraction of what Tony got a month ago) his healing rate has sped up. What should have taken him months has only taken weeks, and while his spine is repaired, he may never regain full use of his legs.

He’s got to re-learn how to walk. The braces Tony made him as soon as he was allowed to go into the lab last week have not only helped Rhodey, they’ve revolutionized the prosthetic market. Rhodey is a walking (!) human trial for it.

Meanwhile, Pepper’s proven (once again) how badass she is by shouldering all the weight while he and Tony are down. She’s running Stark Industries, spearheading the amendment of the Accords and coordinating the cases against Rogers’ and Company. He doesn’t know how she does it, but the woman is a superstar.

It helps that Christine Everhart, who once wrote vitriol against Tony, is solidly on Tony’s side. Her expose on what happened in Siberia had skyrocketed her career. The article the magazine had produced after the exclusive had been a work of art worthy of the Pulitzer she’s being awarded in two weeks. She’s kept the court of public opinion on Tony’s side. On the side of the Accords. On the side of the mutants and inhumans who have always done their best to help people and live their lives.

“Friday,” Rhodey says aloud as he turns around to walk back the other direction under the gimlet eye of Georgia Hooper, “Send one of those edible arrangement things to Christine Everhart from me would you?”

“Sure thing, Uncle Rhodey,” Friday says.

That’s the other thing. Tony’s creations are no longer hiding just _what_ and _who_ they are. Friday was designed (just like Jarvis) as a learning AI. She was given the ability to _become_ an emotional, freethinking person, and boy has she blossomed. Just like the bots, Friday is her own person with her own ideals, personality and traits.

And she’s _pissed._

She calls Tony ‘Pops’ now, instead of ‘Boss’. She told off someone in Human Resources last week. She’d told someone ‘No’ simply because she didn’t want to do what was being asked of her. She’s such a sassy little shit just like her dad; with a vengeful streak she could only have learned from her mom. If Rhodey’s being completely honest, she probably got that vindictively patient streak that’s been getting a workout from him.

“You’re doing great, Colonel,” Georgia tells him.

Rhodey grins grimly, lips pressed tightly together. He’s sweating waterfalls and wants to scream, but he can do this. He takes another step forward, his back screaming.

_He can do this._

*

May Parker hadn’t known what to make of Tony Stark at first. When the man had first come around talking about an internship at Stark Industries. May had been positive it was just a passing fancy for the man, and her kid would be left in the dust. Then Tony had gone and proven her wrong. She’s okay with it, because Tony’s a good guy. He’s a good mentor and an awesome paternal figure for Peter to look up to.

“This was not what I was expecting when that secretary called and asked me to drop by,” May says flatly.

Tony flushes a little, and Peter is a shade of red that nearly matches the Spider-Man getup he’d donned to prove he and Tony weren’t joking. May raises her eyebrows at Tony expectantly. He sputters and shifts around on the couch. He’s still on light duties. Apparently nearly all his ribs had been broken.

“Yeah, okay,” he finally admits. He leans forward carefully and yanks a manila folder out from under his #1 Dad coffee mug. May takes it when he offers it and flips it open to peruse the documents she’s been expecting to see since the first time Peter accidentally called Tony ‘Dad’ in front of her.

She lets Peter stew for a minute.

Tony puts him out of his misery, “She already knew, kid.”

Peter sputters, “But – but how?”

May sighs and sits down on the couch next to Tony. The expression on the man’s face tells her that he thinks Peter’s naivety is adorable. Which it is, but she’ll never tell Peter that. She flips through the paperwork. There’s tab arrows pointing to where her signature is required. She pauses to peruse the section that reassures her that Tony isn’t trying to _take_ her kid, he’s trying to _share_ him.

“The apartment has thin walls, Petey,” May explains, putting the teenager out of his misery. “I’ll admit that at first I thought you were sneaking a girl into your room; but then I remembered that it’s you.” She ignores his sputtering indignation. “The late hours, the weird noises, the evasiveness. Then there was that time your grades took a hit. I’m a smart lady, I figured it out.”

“Oh, yeah,” Tony turns to look at Peter, “You ever get another C and you can say goodbye to Spidering for a month.”

“Dad!”

“Don’t Dad me,” Tony fires back. “You’re a genius kid. Don’t waste your brain.”

“Yes sir,” Peter mutters, shuffling awkwardly. He peers at May from under his eyelashes.

“Don’t look at me,” she tells him. “I’m on his side on this one.”

“Aunt May,” Peter begins, then abruptly shuts up as May picks up the fancy pen that’s been sitting on the table and begins to sign the paperwork.

For a few minutes the only sound in the room is the scratching of the pen as May Parker signs the official adoption paperwork that makes her nephew Tony Stark’s kid legally. May can feel two pairs of eyes burning into her while she reads through each section before signing.

Something inside her feels sad that Peter’s gone and found himself a home away from her. She’s a little mad and a little indignant that she’s not going to be the only one Peter relies on anymore. She’s also surprisingly okay with it. Tony’s a good man (despite the showboating) who very obviously cares about Peter. She’s a little relieved that it’s not going to be just her anymore, which makes her feel a little guilty.

But Ben would have been okay with this. He would have understood.

She also knows that Richard and Mary would have loved that Peter is _wanted_ and _loved_ enough for this man to want to keep him forever.

She scrawls her signature across the final line and sits back. She smiles at Peter, who promptly crawls onto the couch between his Aunt and his brand new adoptive father. May wraps her arm around him and lets him try to burrow into her side. It’s a little awkward considering that’s he’s been taller than her for a while now.

“I love you, Aunt May,” Peter tells her.

“I know,” she says back. “I love you too.”

Tony sits with them, smiling softly.

May Parker decides at that moment that Tony isn’t just Peter’s family any more. He’s hers too. They’re a united front, firmly on the side of Peter Parker. She thinks she can handle being on Tony’s side for the sake of Tony himself, too.

“So does this mean I’m Aunt May to all the robot kids now?” May jokes with a laugh.

Tony grins, “Of course! Also, there’s Harley. He’s human, but we don’t hold it against him, do we Fri?”

“Of course not, pops!” Friday’s voice says from the ceiling.

May sighs, “So this Harley, Friday, and who else?”

“Vision,” Tony says, which doesn’t surprise her. “And the trio of bots in the lab.”

Before she can reply, the elevator dings and opens. The three on the couch turn to watch as Dum-E, U and Butterfingers erupt from the elevator in a series of loud excited beeping. U is wearing a party hat. Dum-E is waving his fire extinguisher about and Butterfingers is holding a lit sparkler in his claw.

May Parker does the only thing she can. She laughs.

*

The cameras flash rapidly as Pepper steps up to the podium in Stark Industries’ press room. She’s absolutely immaculate in her Elie Tahari suit. It’s a pristine pale rose pink with gold pinstripes. Her Louboutin heels provide a splash of color. Her hair is in an immaculate French twist and her lips are a soft pink shimmer.

This is her armor.

She looks out over the sea of reporters that are waiting for her statement and suppresses a smile. There’s at least one representative of every major news outlet worldwide. Each of them sent with a single purpose; to hear what Pepper Potts has to say.

“Thank you for coming. Please allow me to finish my statement before any questions,” she says as she locates Christine Everhart in the front row. Christine has already gotten her exclusive for this. She, in fact, knows far more about the situation than she’ll be publishing.

“Firstly, I would like to say thank you for all the well wishes and prayers that have been extended to Dr. Stark during this trying time. Due to the nature of his injuries and the lengthy road to recovery before him, Tony has opted to remain out of the public eye for now while he recovers. We ask that his privacy be respected during this time.

A medical report written by Tony’s doctor has been issued to the UN and ICC as evidence in the case against Steve Rogers. This report will be made available to the public at the discretion of the ICC in conjunction with their investigation.”

Here Pepper pauses to take a deep breath. It’s a calculated move to allow the press a moment to process the fact that there’s a medical report that they might be able to get their hands on. Maybe. If they’re lucky. This had been discussed extensively, as it had been obvious that as soon as it was entered into evidence that some intrepid busy-body under the guise of journalist would get their grabby little paws on it.

“I would also like to take a moment to relay that Tony is recovering and that his condition is no longer critical,” Pepper pauses again to let the murmur ripple across the room. It’s been nearly two months and Tony’s been in intensive care for all of that time, no matter what he says about it or where he’s doing his convalescing. Helen hadn’t been willing to take him off critical until his sternum and ribs stopped threatening to cave in.

“He’ll remain in the hospital for a while yet while his injuries continue to heal, but he and Colonel Rhodes are taking the opportunity to have a Star Trek marathon.” A ripple of laughter goes through the crowd, and Pepper lets a small smile cross her face. She continues, “He’s also taking the time as an opportunity to work on a backlog of projects for Stark Industries and get to the bottom of the pile paperwork that comes with being the head of Research and Development,” another laugh, good.

“We have full confidence in the UN, the ICC and the UN Accords Panel to bring the terrorists responsible for the events of these past months to justice.” Pepper very carefully shifts her weight so that the cameras won’t pick it up. She needs to appear steadfast and absolute. Any sign of weakness now will undermine what she’s trying to do. She’s not unaware that reporters are all sharks.

She gazes at the sea of faces looking back at her until she finds Christine a few rows back. Pepper locks her knees in place, reminds herself that this is all part of the plan and that Christine is on their side, and says, “I will be taking a few questions. Christine.”

Christine nods, “Thank you Ms. Potts. Firstly, if you would be willing to relay to Dr. Stark all of our well wishes for his recovery – “ Pepper nods with a faint smile “ – Secondly, There’s a rumor going around that Mr. Rogers attempted to murder Dr. Stark during the events leading to Ultron by throwing the shield at him. Can you confirm this?”

A murmur ripples across the room. An attack against Tony preceding the events in Sokovia sets a horrible precedent for how the Rogue Avengers treated Tony before the Civil War. While evidence of this has been coming out steadily for the last four weeks, the amount has been carefully controlled.

“No, Mr. Rogers did not attempt to kill Tony at that time. Mr. Rogers accused Tony of creating Ultron, which we all know is blatantly untrue, as well as of keeping secrets. However, your source is partially correct. The Avenger that attempted to kill Tony when Ultron was created was, in fact, Thor.”

The room erupts, questions being shouted by more than a dozen reporters. Pepper waits for them to quiet as they realize they’re not going to get any answers until they all shut up.

Christine Everhart, ever the professional, continues her line of questioning, “May I ask how this happened?”

“By wrapping his hand around Tony’s throat and lifting him off the ground with his superior Asgardian strength,” Pepper states baldly. Another murmur erupts. Pepper ignores it, “As all of you know, Tony is not an enhanced individual. His strengths lay in his intelligence and in the armor that he created. While these things allow him to stand among giants, he is not physically their equal without the armor.

The average Asgardian is easily twice as strong as a human being. Thor, we all know, is nowhere near average when it comes to his people. He accused Tony of creating Ultron, wrapped his hand tightly around his throat and lifted him off the ground. If that isn’t an attempt to kill him, it is at the very least assault of the highest degree.”

“Is there evidence of this attempt, Ms. Potts,” another reporter asks quickly before Christine can continue her own questions.

“We have video-graphic evidence of the event in question.”

“Will Stark Industries be releasing the footage?”

Pepper smiles grimly, “In all of its glory, Mr. Hatcher, I think. Stark Industries has a policy of truthfulness. We’ll have to dig it out of the archives, but I believe we can have it available to the public by this time tomorrow.”

That’s a lie, Pepper’s got the footage ready now. But the strategy doesn’t need the public to know that.

“Will Dr. Stark be pressing charges against Thor for the assault?” another reporter asks.

“Not at this time.”

*

To borrow a phrase from Fury, the world is quickly filling up with people that can’t be matched. Natasha doesn’t think that this is exactly what the man had in mind when he’d built the Avengers Initiative. But then, it was all bound to fail eventually, wasn’t it? She was directly involved, after all. Natasha is very good at screwing herself over.

She blames the Red Room. She had everything but the desire to survive trained out of her.

She switches sides at the rate she changes her shoes; and she’s really burned her bridges this time.

Stark Tower is a hell of a sight. Natasha spends over an hour just walking amongst the displays of good wishes laid on the sidewalk in front of the tower. Flowers of every color and type, candles, cards. Drawings made by small children. Pictures of people Iron Man had saved or tried to save. There are dozens of people holding vigil outside. So many that a coffee cart has sprung up just off the property line.

There are no less than thirty reporters waiting for a chance to catch a glimpse of Stark, Potts, Rhodes or Vision.

It had been announced three days ago that Tony had been given the all clear to resume a light work schedule. A statement had been given stating that while Tony is out of the woods now, he’s still recovering and will be for some time.

Natasha, not for the first time, wishes she knew what had happened in that bunker beyond what was released to the press.

She had gone there, but there had been nothing to find. The site had been scrubbed, the bodies, blood and tech removed. She didn’t dare try to infiltrate the JTTF center where the evidence was being held and processed. She no longer had access to Shield or Stark resources. There was only so much dying her hair could do and she wasn’t ready to give up entirely, so she wasn’t getting facial reconstruction.

She needed to see Tony with her own eyes. Needed to see that he was okay.

She knows that all of this is partially her fault. She had seen the writing on the wall. Had known that Steve wasn’t going to stop no matter the consequences. So, she had let him and Barnes go.

The part of her that still lived in the Red Room told her she was weak. She had let herself grow fond of the people she worked with. She had cared. As a result, she was homeless and hunted. She had no one to call upon and nowhere to go.

She had let Steve and Barnes go, and they had tried to murder Tony.

Tony. Who always, always had their backs. Tony who shouldered the weight of all their mistakes. Who cleaned up their messes with a smile because he thought they were his family. Tony who felt everything like a slap to the face but still loved those he cared for with every fiber of his being.

She hadn’t understood who Tony was, not really, not until after Ultron. Not until Jarvis was dead and Tony was mourning his son and shouldering the disaster on his own.

She had always believed the mask. Seen the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist and decided there was nothing else to Tony Stark aside from a gigantic ego.

She didn’t know she was wrong until she watched him mourn his child. In her head her impression of Tony changed, but she never changed her behavior to match that new knowledge. That was her downfall.

Tony Stark: Father, genius, billionaire, philanthropist. Hero.

Natasha stops walking among the well-wishes. She stares at a picture drawn by a child between the ages of four and eight. A little girl with blonde pigtails holding Iron Man’s hand. Large, uneven letters declare it to be ‘From Sarah’. Natasha blinks, eyes burning.

She makes a choice.

In the end it’s always about choice.

She walks forward. Weaves her way through the sea of flowers, past the vigil and the reporters to the front doors of Stark Tower. She heads for the reception desk, head high and back straight. She waits her turn to be helped.

“Welcome to Stark Tow – “ the receptionist stops speaking when she looks up into the face of Natasha Romanov. She’s worked here for years, has seen Natasha in every form. The blonde doesn’t stop her from recognizing. She abruptly hits the silent alarm button just under the lip of the desk.

“I’d like to speak with Mr. Stark. I’ll wait.”

The receptionist swallows and nods toward a row of chairs nearby. Two security guards appear, flanking Natasha. “Please have a seat, I’ll send up a request with Friday.”

Natasha nods, turns and allows the guards to escort her to a chair. She sits.

This, she decides, is the beginning of the end of the Black Widow.

*

“You know,” Tony starts when he walks into the room. Natasha turns her head to look at him. She searches him for signs of injury and weakness. “I didn’t expect to ever see you again.”

She doesn’t flinch, but Tony’s known her long enough to see it pass through her eyes. “I’m not a very good friend, am I?” she asks.

Tony raises an eyebrow in surprise, then shakes his head, “No.”

“He wasn’t going to stop.”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“What happened after that is on me.”

“You can have 12% of the blame if it makes you feel better.”

“I thought he would tell you,” she says. She has the decency to hold his gaze. To drop her mask and let him see inside her and know she’s telling the truth. “I thought it would be easier coming from him.”

“It wasn’t.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“The biggest.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” _I’m sorry I trusted him to be honest with you._

“Thank you.” _I trusted him, too._

The silence drags out into the space just before it becomes uncomfortable. Tony doesn’t know what she wants, but he knows what needs to happen. He walks over to her, crouches down next to her chair and places his hand on her knee. He lets her take it in her own and grip it tightly.

“Are you ready for what happens next?”

Natasha looks up. For the first time since Tony has known her, she looks scared. Scared but determined. She nods.

Friday takes that as her cue to let Everett Ross into the room with a quartet of JTTF officers. Tony squeezes Natasha’s hand and rises to his feet, pulling her along with him. They turn to face Ross, who looks grim, but not unkind.

“Ms. Romanov,” he greets her with a nod. She nods back, tight-lipped. “You are being taken into custody for violating section 73 subsection 31c of the Accords pending a hearing before the panel. You are not under arrest, but it is recommended that you retain legal counsel. The German Government has chosen to waive their right to prosecute you for destruction of property at the Leipzig-Halle airport until the conclusion of the hearing. At which time any charges against you will be revisited. Do you understand?”

Natasha swallows hard, then shores herself up and puts on her mask again. The only betrayal of how she’s feeling being her resistance to letting go of Tony’s hand, “I understand Agent Ross.”

Tony squeezes her hand one last time, and then lets go. She is flanked on all sides by the armed escort, and Ross and Tony shake hands.

“Dr. Stark, it’s good to see you’re doing well,” Everett says.

“Thanks,” Tony replies. Then he looks to Natasha, “I’ve already retained a lawyer for you, Nat. He’s got everything he needs for your case and will meet you at the UN building. His name is Matt Murdock.”

“Thank you, Tony,” she says, and she means it.

Tony’s mouth quirks up at the corner. It’s the best he can do at a genuine smile for her, so she takes it. She knows she’s going to have to earn his trust. It will be the hardest thing she’s ever had to do, but she knows it’s worth it.

“Vision will see you at the hearing,” Tony says.

Natasha nods, and follows Ross from the sanctuary that Stark Tower had been, if only for a short time.

This is the right thing. She can do this.

*

Hope Van Dyne likes to believe that she’s a rational person. Oh sure, she’s angry as hell, but she’s gotten used to that. Her dad pisses her off on the regular, and she’s used to running her company through a haze of rage whenever they get into a fight. So, dealing with Scott Lang after his idiocy exposed them to a hell of a lot of scrutiny can be done with a modicum of grace.

Pym Tech had been in talks to collaborate with Stark Industries for months before the Civil War. Those talks had been postponed in the wake of all the destruction. Hope had respected Stark’s request for privacy and waited her turn. In the meanwhile, she had reached out to Germany and the public to address Scott’s role in the events there.

Pym Tech agreed to pay reparations for the destruction caused as a direct result of the use of the Ant-Man suit and agreed to stand aside and allow Lang to be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. It was the best the company could hope for. Because the suit belongs to them, they could have easily been dragged into court over it.

Openly taking responsibility for the suit went a long way to keeping the company stable. Stocks fell, of course they did, but they didn’t plummet. The company is stable, and it looks like they aren’t in any trouble for what happened. As CEO, it was the best that Hope could do. Everyone who worked for her knew it.

Hope had also gone into talks with the UN Accords Council. She revealed the Wasp suit and her intentions to use it as a signatory of the accords, and the Avengers if they would have her. A contract was hammered out, ironclad and approved of by both the council and herself A proposal for her inclusion in the Avengers had been sent to Colonel Rhodes, who had been made interim leader of the Avengers from his hospital bed until a permanent team lead could be found.

Tony Stark had refused the job point-blank.

The Air Force have given Rhodes a commendation and promoted him to full bird Colonel to fit his new role and loaned him out via contract to the Accords Council. Being War Machine’s pilot and Tony Stark’s best friend, as well as having a stellar service record had made things go through smooth as butter.

Hope met with Rhodes. She’d traveled to Stark Tower and met with him at the tail end of a physical therapy session that appeared to Hope to be torture out of the fifth circle of hell. His therapist, a tall African American woman named Georgia was kind and completely implacable.

Hope was impressed.

Hope was approved by Rhodes and became a member of the Avengers. Her first mission was helping Vision with the PR storm the Avengers were going through. More than half the roster had gone with Rogers into exile. With Rhodes and Stark in the hospital, it had fallen to Vision to pick up the slack. Hope wouldn’t wish that kind of stress on her worst enemy.

And Vision is a polite, courteous gentleman. She likes him.

So, she’s on a whirlwind press tour with Vision a week after signing on when word comes that Scott’s turned himself in. A fist she hadn’t realized was clenched around her heart releases its grip on her heart. She chooses to stay out of things. If she sees him, she won’t be able to be objective about what has to happen.

She does send a lawyer.

“You know,” Tony tells her (because he’s Tony now, no matter that they’ve only ever spoken on the phone), “it’s okay to be pissed at him and still want to help. He didn’t do it on purpose.”

“No,” she says, scowling. “He’s just a smart idiot.”

“Who saw the error of his ways,” Tony reminds her.

She heaves a heavy sigh, “You’re supposed to let me be mad.”

Tony shrugs on the monitor. He looks thin and a bit pale, but happier than he’s looked in years. It probably has something to do with the two teenagers she can see in the background clustered around the coffee table doing schoolwork.

“Natasha came in today,” he changes the subject. Vision stills next to Hope. “She let Baby Ross take her in without argument. I’m sending a lawyer with her.”

“Is that wise?” Vision asks.

“Eh,” Tony says, making a wiggly gesture with his hand. “I think she’s trying.”

“What do you think the council will say?” Hope asks. She’s studied everything she can about the fight in Germany, and she’s on the fence about the Black Widow.

“She let them go because she knew they weren’t going to stop,” Tony says, face grim. The three Avengers share a moment of knowing silence. Steve Rogers is a brutal fist to the face, and the Winter Soldier is a human tank. Stopping them when they don’t want to be stopped is deadly; as Tony’s still-healing ribs can attest to. “Her reasoning is sound, but she still violated the Accords by letting them go. I think she’ll squeak by with a reprimand and a probationary period.”

“You’d let her be an Avenger again?”

“I think out of everyone involved in this; the only person less culpable in the bad stuff than Natasha Romanov is Spiderman.”

Hope doesn’t want to believe it, but it’s probably true. They’ve also gained the attention of the teens. One of which is Peter Parker, who Hope knows is Spiderman. His contract with the Accords is five times longer than her own. Tony had really gone to bat for his adopted son and covered everything from Peter’s age to the fact that he wanted his identity to remain anonymous.

Spiderman is a part-time member of the Avengers. He’s to be called on only in cases where his specific skill set is needed or when it’s an all hands-on deck situation. He also has a secondary contract that Tony’s lawyers drew up with the city of New York.

“I believe,” Vision says thoughtfully, “That Natasha lives her life trying to do her best to survive. It makes her unreliable and untrustworthy.”

“I think we can trust her,” Tony says. “Maybe not with everything, but we can trust that she wants to do the right thing.”

“Wanting and doing are two different things,” Hope says.

*

_“… Ms. Romanov, by letting Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes go at the Leipzig-Halle airport, this council finds you in violation of the Accords, which you signed.”_

Steve’s hands are digging into the armrests of his chair. Natasha’s UN hearing is being broadcast live all over the world, and he’s watching his friend get dragged through hell simply because she let he and Bucky go. He wishes there was more that he could do than sit here.

Clint is rigid, watching the screen with his full attention. Sam and Wanda are watching as well but aren’t invested in the hearing like Steve and Clint are. Clint and Natasha have history; hell, the man had named his youngest child after her. Steve feels guilt, because he’s the reason she must go through this.

She looks good. The blonde suits her, and her suit is impeccable as always. She’s flanked on either side by two men, one thin and dark haired, the other heavier set with longish blond hair. Behind Natasha, Vision sits calmly, face unreadable.

It’s nice to see that Natasha hasn’t been completely abandoned.

The spokesman for the UN Accords Council, a Lady Amelia Rathbone of Great Britain, wears a serious expression on her face, _“After a thorough investigation of the incident, the Council has concluded that while letting the Rogues go helped prevent more destruction and injuries at the airport, it ended in the severe injury of War Machine and Iron Man.”_

Steve winces. Why can’t anyone let that go. He’d been defending Bucky! He’d had no choice. He certainly hadn’t been trying to kill Tony. Tony is his friend; he would never do that.

_“I think we can all agree that no matter the decision you made, Ms. Romanov, neither was an ideal one. As a result, for violating the Accords this Council will be fining you a sum of one-hundred thousand American dollars, to be paid over the course of the next ten years if you do not have the money. The money will be used to aid Germany in rebuilding the airport.”_

“That’s not so bad,” Sam says. Clint makes a noise and Steve glances at Sam. Sam shrugs, “They’re basically telling her that since she helped break the airport, they’re making her help fix it. It could be a lot worse.”

“She shouldn’t have to pay for anything,” Steve protests. “She did the right thing.”

_“In addition,”_ Lady Rathbone continues, _“A reprimand will be placed in your file and you will be put on probation for a total of six months. During this time, you will be considered grounded, and may only go on missions that have been approved by this Council and only if a supervising member of the Avengers accompanies you. You will be required to participate in training, as well as a series of psychological reviews. You will check in with the supervising Avenger daily to make sure you are attending to all your duties. Do you understand?”_

_“Yes, Ma’am,”_ Natasha says.

_“Are there any objections to any of our decisions today?”_ Another member of the Council asks.

The dark-haired man next to Natasha leans forward a bit, _“We have no objections at this time.”_

“Lawyer,” Clint says derisively.

“Isn’t her having a lawyer a good thing?” Steve wonders.

“Depends on if he’s a good one,” Clint says sullenly.

_“Good.”_ Rathbone continues. _“Mr. Stark, has a supervising Avenger been assigned to Ms. Romanov?”_

Steve straightens in his chair, expecting to see the camera to pan to Tony. It doesn’t, instead it zooms in on Vision, who stands to acknowledge the Council. Wanda hisses like a teakettle, suddenly furious. Vision took Tony’s name. Steve doesn’t understand why. Wanda doesn’t either. She starts muttering in Sokovian, eyes faintly red with her anger.

_“It has been decided that I will be her supervisor during her probation. Colonel Rhodes and Dr. Stark are still recovering from their injuries, and Ms. Van Dyne is still adjusting to the requirements and schedule of an Avenger. I have the experience needed, as well as the time.”_ Vision’s voice is calm, and when he glances at Natasha his eyes are warm. _“I believe Ms. Romanov and I will be able to make the most of her probation so that she may return to being a fully active member of the Avengers.”_

Natasha lets a little smile slip, and Lady Rathbone nods decisively. _“Good. Ms. Romanov, at the end of your probationary period your status will be reviewed by this council. Until then, I bid you good luck and good day.”_

_“Thank you, your Grace.”_

Steve sighs as the station switches to their news anchor to give commentary on the result of the hearing. Natasha shouldn’t have to go on probation. She shouldn’t have to check in or have her actions and decisions questioned every time she does anything. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

“I think,” Sam says thoughtfully, “we need to get our hands on a copy of the Accords.”

“You’re not thinking about signing them, are you?” Steve asks.

Sam shakes his head, “You know I’m with you, man, but I think we need to know what we’re up against, and that means taking a deeper look into it.”

Steve shakes his head; he knows all he needs to about the Accords. It’s control. It’s being used as an attack dog. It’s giving up their freedom to choose. To go where they’re needed.

Clint makes a thoughtful noise, “We can’t fight what we don’t know. They’ve been making amendments the last couple months. The Accords will have changed. It’s probably not a bad idea to know what we’re dealing with.”

Steve bites back his protests. It makes sense, as much as he loathes the idea. Clint wants to get home to his family. Steve himself would like to go home. Wakanda is nice, and T’Challa has been extremely generous, but it isn’t New York. It isn’t the Compound.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

*

Sam is pretty sure he made a grave mistake when he decided to follow Steve blindly when it comes to the Accords. Steve is a good man, and he’s right 90% of the time. Sam is starting to think this time is one of the other 10%. He still believes that they made the right choice at the time. Anything Thaddeus Ross is involved in is a bad idea. He’d heard horror stories about the General when he was in the Army.

But Thaddeus Ross isn’t involved. He hasn’t been seen around the Accords since they broke out of the Raft. Sam’s been watching the news, looking for signs of him. He’s being slammed at home with lawsuits and criminal charges. The evidence of what he’s been doing the last twenty years has started to be unearthed. He was ousted as the Secretary of State last week when the CIA arrested him for crimes against humanity.

Some of the things the man had done just because he hates super-humans makes Sam’s stomach roil.

Without Ross there to color everything, the Accords don’t seem so bad. They’re not any worse than Army Regulations, and Sam had thrived with those. Hell, Scott’s doing okay even. Oh, sure, he’s serving six months in for violating his parole, but he’s being allowed to do that under house arrest. He’s being fined for the damage done at the airport, and he’s not allowed to enter Germany ever again. He’s also serving community service as Ant-Man with the permission of Pym Tech.

There’s even some speculation on whether Ant-Man will be considered for the Avengers once his house arrest is done.

So, all in all, it’s not a bad gig. Oh, sure, Scott’s going to be paying reparations to the German Government for the rest of his life because the amount of destruction he caused as Giant-Man was astronomical, but Stark dropped the charges of attempted murder when it was discovered that Ant-Man got inside the Iron Man suit and tried to drop him out of the air.

Small mercies and all that.

Scott’s also got that girlfriend. Hope Van Dyne is a force to be reckoned with. She’s terrifying, and Sam has to give Scott mad props for being able to keep up with her. The tabloids say the pair is on the rocks, and there’s question on if they’re still a couple, but Hope hasn’t abandoned Scott.

She’s probably making him pay for it, though.

Sam hasn’t been able to find anything out about any cases against Scott from his ex, or any restraining orders barring him from seeing his daughter, so Sam has high hopes that that mess will work itself out.

Sam doesn’t have high hopes for himself.

He made his choice, now he’s got to ride it into its grave.

*

“Ugh,” Tony winces and puts his mug down on the Hufflepuff coaster on his desk. The smart desk is his own design. Sleek, modern lines with a glasswork tabletop fully outfitted as a screen display and holo-projector. His office in R&D has three glass walls, two looking out over his domain (the labs) and one looking out over the New York City skyline. The fourth, behind him, used to have an expensive Jackson Pollack painting on it, but that has long since been relocated to the lobby as the wall has filled up with well-wishes and the artwork of small children.

He likes the collage far better than the painting.

“Coffee cold?” Doctor Richard Matherson asks genially. He’s older than Tony, his hair is more gray than brown. He’s got smile lines all around his eyes and a no-nonsense resting expression. He’s R&D through-and-through, which means he’s got a nerd’s sense of humor. They’ve always gotten along great.

“It’s not coffee,” Tony says. “I’m not allowed to have anything with high caffeine content for another two weeks. It’s herbal tea, Pepper bought this single serving sampler thing and I get a cup every time I ask for coffee because Friday hates me.”

“I don’t hate you, pops,” Friday chirps from above, making Richard smirk over the rims of his reading glasses at Tony. “I want you to live a very long time, so tea. Also, tea has proven health benefits to drinking it.”

Tony heaves a sigh, and Richard chuckles.

“We’re done here if you want to flee,” the R&D Manager offers.

Tony quirks a grin at him. They’ve eaten through the paperwork backlog in the last three weeks since Tony was given the okay to work, and for once R&D is running on time with all reports and projects. Nothing has blown up in seven days (this year’s record) and Tony has been cleared for light work in the lab. He spent a few hours tinkering this morning on a few ideas that have been piling up around him.

He’s looking into integrating the Armor into his Extremis via nanotech. He’s calling it Bleeding Edge, and it’s absolutely brilliant. His ability to access tech and integrate with it is what Charles Xavier told him is on par with something called Technomancy. Or, as close to it as one can get without being a true technopath.

That had been a fascinating conversation. Xavier had called about the Accords and his team of mutants, the X-Men. It had brought to attention the fact that the Avengers aren’t the only team of superhumans out there. The X-Men are now negotiating their own contract with the Accords Council as a team independent of the Avengers, and the Fantastic Four (led by that sanctimonious ass, Richards) are rumored to be in talks with the Council as well.

The more the merrier, Tony believes. The better coordinated the world is, the better off they are when the next threat comes knocking at their door.

“I think,” Tony decides, “that’s a great idea.”

Richard nods and excuses himself. Tony takes a minute to attempt to organize his desk, then gives it up for a bad job and leaves it the way it is. It’s been three months since Siberia, and he’s feeling pretty good about things. Oh, sure, thinking about Rogers and company leaves a bitter taste in his mouth; and he’s having nightmares, but he’s dealing with that trauma.

Who knew therapy could be so useful when one doesn’t have to worry about the beans being spilled to the highest bidder? It helps that Dr. Keyworth is easy to talk to. The knowledge that they’re all seeing him helps too. Vision is talking to him to help him deal with his confusion about human things, and the trauma of being blown through eight floors of the Compound by someone he trusted. Rhodey is seeing him as he deals with his own trauma and his rapid recovery. Lang and Natasha are both required to have weekly sessions with him, and Hope and Peter as Avengers are required to have a quarterly review because of the nature of the job.

He’s not a solo nutcase, and that knowledge helps.

“Hey Fri, is my Butterbean back yet?” Tony asks as he exits his office and heads for the elevator.

“Not yet,” Friday tells him. “He’s still in talks with the Air Force and Colonel Danvers. He isn’t scheduled to return until Friday.”

“Right,” Tony remembers that it’s Wednesday. Peter’s at school, and Harley is in Tennessee and at school. Pepper’s being CEO. Vision is performing his duties as the Avenger’s Accords representative. Tony stares at the elevator buttons for a moment, before making a decision and hitting the button for the lobby. “Have someone from PR meet me in the lobby, sweetheart, I think it’s time Daddy made a public appearance.”

“You got it, pops,” Friday says, voice approving. Tony can’t tell whether she approves of him going out (he’s been hiding, and he knows it) or the fact that he’s giving PR a heads up before he does.

People still drop off gifts at Stark Tower, but the official vigil ended as soon as it was announced that Tony was going to fully recover from his injuries. The public is still concerned about him, what with no sight of him for nearly thirteen weeks.

Sokovia wants Wanda’s head on a pike, as does South Africa and Nigeria. Most of the world has declared her persona-non-grata. Her citizenship in Sokovia has been revoked, and her visa in the US has been as well. She’s being brought up on charges for a list of war crimes that put her on the Hitler-scale of death and torture.

Rogers has been charged with the murder of three German police officers and two JTTF officers and is being charged with six counts of manslaughter from the tunnel collapse. There are additional counts of assault, but the amount of injured from the tunnel means they’re still counting. This makes the destruction of property and resisting arrest charges small peanuts. The investigation into the Raft and Secretary Ross (who’s trial Tony is expected to testify at next week) has also increased to breaking and entering and multiple counts of aiding a criminal.

Wilson has been dishonorably discharged from the Army, and he’s being charged with grand larceny for taking the Falcon wings with him when he left. He isn’t being charged with assault, because Rhodey understands battle, and doesn’t blame the man for dodging out of the way of Vision’s beam. Vision and Rhodey have talked about it, too, so that’s squared away. He caused little to no damage at the airport, so Germany isn’t pursuing him for that in preference for Rogers, Maximoff and Lang. He is being charged with aiding and abetting a criminal and resisting arrest, and there are talks about charges of manslaughter in the tunnel.

Barton’s charges are the easiest by far. In comparison he’d had a very small role in recent events. He’d been at the airport, but (like Natasha) had caused a negligible amount of damage there. Destruction of property and breaking and entering at the Compound. Evading arrest and escaping custody when he was broken out of the Raft. He, like Lang, could work off his debt and come home to his family. He just hasn’t.

Tony isn’t even going to touch the tangled mess that is Barnes’ case. They’re _still_ unburying evidence of the Winter Soldier’s hits. Tony had handed everything about the Winter Soldier that Friday (and Jarvis before his death) had been able to recover from the Shield data dump. Not that Tony had seen any of it, he had chosen to trust Rogers to tell him what he needed to know. Also, he hadn’t had time.

The only thing that anyone seemed to agree on, was that James Barnes was the longest held POW in human history. Everything else was a tangled snarl. Could he be charged with the Winter Soldier’s crimes if he’d been brainwashed, tortured and held against his will during that time frame? How many of the charges from the Insight debacle and the recent Civil War events _could_ he be held responsible for? Was he even remotely psychologically sound?

It gives Tony a headache every time he thinks about it, so he just lets it go.

The elevator dings, jolting him out of his reverie. Tony steps out into the marble-floored lobby of Stark Tower and spots Jonica Lawson of Public Relations waiting for him by the reception desk. Tony strolls over to her with a smile and she smiles back. The woman is impeccable in her suit pants and elegant floral shirt. Her deep brown skin and long braids are flawless in presentation. This is a woman that knows what she’s about. She’s been on SI’s PR team since before Iron Man.

“Hey Jonica,” Tony greets her amiably.

“Tony,” she says in her lilting Jamaican accent. “Thank you for the head’s up.”

Tony grins, “See, I can be taught new tricks!”

“Yes,” she says. “Now, if only we could teach you to sit and stay.”

He chuckles, “So, I’m going for a walk down the street to that café with the danishes.”

“Are you?” Jonica taps on her tablet to wake up the screen and opens a document. “Well, I’m here to go over what you can and cannot say or do on your little walk.”

“Hit me with it.”

“No cussing. No obnoxious flirting. No comments on anything related to Rogers and crew. Be polite, would you?”

“Sure. That it?”

“Always found it best to let you loose with only a few rules,” she says with an ironic smile. “You’re less likely to forget them.”

“Very true.”

“And no suiting up unless it’s an emergency! You haven’t been cleared medically yet.”

“Yes ma’am.”

*

_“…Tony Stark made his first public appearance since he was injured in Siberia today.”_

A video of Tony exiting Stark Tower shows that while he’s a little pale and thin, he looks none the worse for wear. Steve is riveted on the images as video-Tony stops to speak with some kids visiting the Tower with their parents.

_“It’s nice to see him out and about, Karen,”_ the male news anchor looks delighted. _“It’s a relief to see he’s recovering from his ordeal.”_

_“It really is,”_ the female anchor, Karen, states. She’s smiling. _“He stopped to say hello to a few reporters and is quoted giving his thanks for all the prayers and well-wishes that have been sent his way these last few months. He especially thanked the children who have sent him any artwork, as it has given him an excuse to redecorate his office wall._

_“Dr. Stark then took a walk on the streets of New York, stopping at a local café to get a cup of tea and a danish before heading back to Stark Tower.”_

Steve wants more. He needs to know more. How is he actually doing? Did he get Steve’s apology? Steve tunes out the rest of the news report as the program moves away from Tony to other subjects. He’s alive. Steve didn’t kill him. He looks fine.

“He doesn’t look like he’s been in the hospital,” Wanda says derisively. “I told you it was a ploy. He probably wasn’t that badly hurt and is just milking it for all it’s worth.”

Steve isn’t so sure.

Sam snorts from his place in an armchair across the room. He’s been withdrawn and quiet the last few weeks. He’s been reading the Accords to try and get them all acquainted with what they’re up against. What little that Steve has gained from them tells him that they were in the right. Every mission approved of? Disciplinary action and reports? They just wanted to control them.

Steve hasn’t read as much of the document as Sam has. There are literally hundreds of pages. The document is over a thousand pages long, and it keeps getting longer as amendments are added. Steve’s never had much patience for book learning, so he’s struggling with wanting to sit and read them.

Sam hasn’t seemed to have that issue. He’s nearly halfway through the Accords and the farther in the grimmer he gets. That doesn’t bode well for the document, and Steve knows he’s not going to like what he finds.

Wanda hasn’t bothered, she said she trusts Steve to make a sound decision. It’s good to know that they trust him.

“I’m leaving,” Clint says after a few minutes of silence.

“Clint, what?” Steve starts.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Clint says, and he really does look it. “I can’t keep this up. I need to go home to my family. If that means eating their bullshit charges, then I’ll do it.”

Steve gets that. He gets that Clint wants to see his family. He’s got three young kids and a wife that need him. “I understand. Just promise me you’ll be careful. Ross isn’t out of the picture, and the Accords – “

“I’m less worried about the Accords than I am about how mad at me Laura is,” Clint confides. “I can deal with whatever that bullshit Council wants to throw at me. It can’t be any worse than the bureaucracy that Shield could be sometimes. No, Laura’s gonna try and shoot me.”

Sam snorts, but doesn’t say anything. Steve nods, because he’s met Clint’s wife. There’s no way she’ll let Clint just up and leaving with no word slide, even if he was doing the right thing.

“Be careful,” he advises.

“Will do,” Clint says. He leaves the room, and Steve knows that it’s the last time he’s going to see him for a long time except in the news.

*

Harley Keener-Stark watches the coverage of Clint Barton’s hearing ensconced on the couch in his mother’s house. As with Natasha’s hearing, the whole thing is covered by most international (and some domestic) news outlets. Barton wears a respectable gray suit with a dark blue tie. Seated next to him is a dour-faced lawyer that had probably been assigned to Clint’s case.

No Nelson and Murdock for Hawkeye.

Good. He doesn’t deserve it.

Lady Rathbone, who Harley met two weeks ago when the woman was invited to dinner with the Starks (all the ones that need to eat anyway. Except Friday. Friday was there, too), is grim-faced and serious. Harley has a hard time relating this woman to the jovial woman who smiled so easily at dinner. _“Mr. Barton, while this council appreciates you coming forward and turning yourself in, we cannot forget your involvement in the events of six months ago.”_

Clint is staring into the middle distance, face carefully blank as he accepts his consequences.

The bench behind him is conspicuously empty.

There’s a twinge of sympathy inside him at the sight. Harley believes that Barton deserves everything that’s coming to him, but it’s still sad to see that no one came to support him.

_“This council has chosen to respect your previous wish to retire and does not consider you a viable candidate for the Accords or the New Avengers. Germany has graciously allowed this Council to determine consequences for your involvement at the Leipzig-Halle airport.”_ Rathbone pauses here to exchange respectful nods with the German representative four seats away from her.

_“Your involvement in the incident in question caused far less damage to the area than that of your compatriots, and therefore it has been decided that while you will not be charged for destruction of property, you are also not welcome within Germany’s sovereign borders. This ban will last the duration of your life. Should you choose to violate this order, you will be arrested and face the possibility of up to 10 years’ imprisonment in The Hague.”_

Wow, Germany isn’t dicking around with this. Harley seeks out their UN representative, who looks grimly satisfied. On the screen, Barton looks a little paler than before.

Lady Rathbone makes a gesture, and two men in JTTF uniforms step up to the table, _“These men have been assigned to escort you to New York, where you are to face charges of breaking and entering, destruction of property and assault. Good luck, Mr. Barton. This session of the Accords Council is concluded.”_

“Harley!”

Harley jolts, and turns off the TV on Barton’s face as he grimly allows the JTTF officers to handcuff him. “Yeah, Mom?” he calls.

Anna Keener sticks her head around the corner from the kitchen to throw a look at him, “Are you packed?”

“Yes,” Harley tells her.

“You sure you didn’t forget anything?” Anna asks.

“I got it, Mom,” he says, exasperated. “It’s just Science Camp, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re going to be gone for three weeks, then you’re going to New York, I just want to make sure you have everything,” Anna replies. She loves her son, and she’s grateful he’s got Tony looking out for him, but that doesn’t make her worry any less.

“I got it.”

“Okay, well, get your stuff and put it by the door, your Dad will be here to pick you up in fifteen.”

“Got it!” and he goes to do as he was told.

*

Tony can’t say he’s surprised when he wakes up on a bright Thursday morning after dropping Peter and Harley off at Science Camp upstate to several news articles on the kids and Tony’s relationship with them. He and Pepper had exchanged a singular look at breakfast that reminds him of how lucky he is to have her. The woman can practically read his mind.

“I’ll talk to Jonica,” Pepper says with a sigh.

“Hey,” Tony tells her, for once the calm one in their relationship. “Breathe, Pep. We’ve been expecting something like this for weeks. We’re prepared.”

Pepper sighs, but lets him draw her into his arms for a few moments, “They couldn’t leave our kids alone, could they?”

A little thrill goes through Tony at the words. Their kids. Pepper’s in this with him, and she considers his kids hers. He’s so damn lucky he can’t even fathom how his life became this. “They’re reporters and we’re famous.”

Pepper straightens her suit jacket when she pulls away from him, “Right. Okay. I’ll talk to Jonica, we’ll release the statement. You talk to the boys. Friday, honey, make sure Karen is informed on all this and let Vision know, please.”

“You got it, Mom,” Friday says. “The ‘bots want to have a party.”

Tony huffs a chuckle and shakes his head. Dum-E, U and Butterfingers will take any excuse to make confetti poppers go off. “Let them have their fun, Fri, but they have to clean up after themselves.”

“Got it, pops.”

Pepper leaves the penthouse with a kiss and a wave and Tony turns back to the news articles hovering in front of him with a little grin. Life is actually really good for him right now. His relationship with his best friend is better than it has been since MIT. Pepper loves him and he’s thinking about proposing.

He’s got eight kids. Nine if you include Harley’s sister, even though he’s not as close to her as he is to Harley. Bonnie knows she’s got him, though. She’s eleven going on eighteen and she’s reached that point where it’s not cool to admit she needs her parents for things. Anna likes to complain about it.

Lang and Barton turned themselves in. Natasha was working toward regaining his trust. Sure, Rogers, Maximoff and Wilson are still out there, but they know the where. T’Challa makes regular reports on the Rogues, and Wakanda’s security is second-to-none.

And Barnes is on ice.

He can do this whole thing. This whole stand his ground and defend what he believes in thing. He’s got this.

When he steps onto the elevator, he’s wearing one of his signature bespoke suits, this one in charcoal gray, with an Iron Man red tie with a gold pinstripe and a pair of his signature shades. He heads down to R&D, where his office is. He gets hellos and greetings from the scientists that have either come in early or staid way too late on his way in.

“Okay Friday, shoot off a text to the boys. Let them know that the cat’s out of the bag, would you?”

“Text sent,” Friday returns. “Harley says you owe him a burger because he won the bet.”

“As soon as they get back from camp, he can pick the place. Let’s give Anna and May a heads up while we’re at it. A few reporters might decide to be idiots and approach them.”

“Will do.” There’s a pause before Friday speaks again. “May says you’re an idiot and you owe her dinner for every time a reporter asks if the two of you ever slept together. Anna says no to dinner and yes to household chores.”

Tony grins to himself as his holographic desktop springs to life as he sits down. “Square deal. Throw in daddy-daughter dates for Bonnie. The vultures are guaranteed to speculate. What’s on the agenda for today?”

“You have three appointments. One with Mr. Murdock to go over the current amendments at nine o’clock. Your eleven o’clock is with Doctors Zeigler and Greene to go over their progress and release timeline for the Hope Line. You have a two o’clock with a Doctor Strange about the Accords.”

“Right,” Tony breathes in a few times. His chest doesn’t hurt when his lungs expand for the first time in a long while. He feels good. Extremis has taken his recovery from months to years down to weeks, and he’s got the all-clear for Science! From Helen. He’s still got to wait before he can step into the armor, but that can wait. He’s revolutionizing the world of prosthetics in the meantime.

“Let’s get to work, Friday my girl.”

*

Doctor Stephen Strange wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting of this meeting, but this wasn’t it. He’d been expecting Tony Stark in an expensive, designer bespoke suit, which he is. It’s also where his expectations got confused. He feels unsettled and not a little weirded out.

First, he’s given an escort. A kid no older than nineteen. A freshman in college that waxes poetic about how cool Stark Industries is and how they’ve read all of his work, and what does he think of the new Hope Line? Stephen doesn’t know what that is, and makes the mistake of telling the intern this. The intern takes it as a challenge to try to make a professional sales pitch to a medical doctor, despite the fact that Stephen no longer practices medicine.

The fact that Stark Industries is about to release a line of the most advanced prosthetics in the world is interesting, but not interesting enough to be trapped in a moving elevator with an overenthusiastic intern.

Then they get off on the R&D floors instead of the Executive floors of the Tower. Most of the walls here are glass, so Stephen gets a good look at the good scientists of Stark Industries in their natural habitat as he’s led down the hall to a corner office. Three of its four walls are made of glass. One looks out into the hall, and therefore into the lab across from it. The north wall looks out over another lab. The south is floor to ceiling windows that provide a positively breathtaking view of New York’s skyline.

The final wall behind the desk is solid, and absolutely plastered in what amounts to approximately a school’s worth of kindergarten drawings.

The door is propped open, but the intern knocks on it anyway.

“Hey, Dr. Stark!”

Tony Stark looks up from the holographic computer screen in front of him and grins fondly at the intern, “Hey kid, you pull the short straw?”

The intern shakes her head, “Nope. I volunteered. Needed to stretch my legs.”

Stark’s eyebrows crawl up his forehead before he appears to remember something and his eyes twinkle madly with amusement, “Why don’t you and the others go get ice cream or something, I think you guys deserve it after Greene’s little mess this morning.”

The intern positively beams, “Sure! Thank you!”

Stark waves the intern away and waves Stephen into his office in the same gesture. Stephen settles into one of the comfortable chairs across from the man’s desk. He takes the time as he settles in to take a real look at Stark. He’s pale, and a bit on the too-thin side, but he looks healthy otherwise.

“Thank you for meeting with me, Dr. Stark,” Stephen begins. “I know you have a lot on your plate.”

“Pffffft,” Tony nearly blows a raspberry and flaps a hand in Stephen’s general direction. “I’m less busy that I should be. I’m still recovering so I’m on light duties for a few more weeks.”

“I see,” Stephen says. He does. He remembers what recovering was like for himself; he can imagine what it is like for Stark. “I appreciate it even more then.”

Stark shrugs, the turns off his holographic monitor to give Stephen his full attention. For a few moments, Stephen feels pinned like a butterfly under Stark’s scrutinizing gaze. He manages to shake the feeling off, but he suspects it’s not one he’s likely to forget any time soon. “Now,” Stark says, voice congenial but businesslike, “how can I help the Sorcerers of Kamar-Taj?”

Of course. Of course, Stark knows about them. It only makes sense. Stephen settles back in his chair. He’s ready to negotiate.

“I’d like to discuss the Accords, and how they might affect Sorcerers and other magic users.”

Across from him, Tony Stark grins.

The pinned butterfly feeling returns.

*

Colonel Carol Danvers likes Colonel James Rhodes. She always has. When they were in training together, he’d never once looked down on her for being a woman, and she’d never once looked down on him for being black. It made them allies of a sort. He’s practical, intelligent and a hell of a pilot.

He’s also a giant dickbag, apparently.

“You want me to what now?” Carol demands, giving him her best flat stare.

“We want you to be Commanding Officer of the Avengers,” Rhodes says, smirking. Jerk. “Tony said no and threatened to retire. I’m still in rehab for my legs and will be for a while. And no one else has command experience.”

“I wish I thought you were joking,” she tells him flatly. Then she leans back with a sigh. It’s a beautiful day. They’re sitting in the sun at the nearest Starbucks to Davis Monthan Air Force Base, and it’s not too hot out yet. Yet, being the operative word. Carol has plans to tour the aircraft boneyard later, just because it’s fun and she can.

Rhodes is kind enough to let her stew about it by taking out his Starkphone and occupying himself with it. He’s either texting Tony Stark or browsing cute animal posts on imgur.

She kind of wishes she hadn’t already accepted the Avengers posting and signed the Accords. Then she could have turned this around on Rhodes. She doesn’t mind joining the team, and she doesn’t mind being in command. She actually prefers being in command. What she hates is inheriting the minefield that comes with it.

“Co-Command,” she finally decides.

Rhodes looks up at her, eyebrows raised, “Co-Command?”

“Yep. You and me. Joint Command of the Avengers or no dice.”

Rhodes smirks at her, and Carol knows she’s played into his hands. Jerk. “Deal.”

This isn’t the first time James Rhodes has hoodwinked her into doing something she didn’t really want to. It probably won’t be the last either. He’s been an officer just as long as she has, and he’s been promoted faster than she has. He’s been a Colonel longer than her.

She smirks at him over the rim of her coffee cup, “You realize that since you got promoted six months before me that that makes you senior officer, right?”

Rhodes cusses and makes a face, “You realize that means I can foist things I don’t wanna do off on you, right?”

Carol makes a face, “Bring it on flyboy.”

“Oh, believe me, I will.”

*

Steve has always been amazed at Pepper Potts. The woman is always immaculate and stylish. Well, stylish as far as this century goes. He appreciates her suits. Her sleek and professional appearance. He thinks she walks on those heels by witchcraft, because how else can a woman walk on four-inch spikes. (Natasha does it too, and its amazing no matter the woman).

Watching her step up to the podium on television lends a different perspective to the way she’s dressed. She’s wearing a charcoal suit jacket and skirt, shot through with gold pinstripes and a silky rose-gold top. Her hair is swept up into the kind of elegant twist that looks far more appropriate for tea with the queen than a press conference.

She’s beautiful, and she looks like she’s wearing armor.

She scares him.

_“Thank you for coming,”_ she says, giving the reporters around her a congenial smile. _“As many of you are aware, there have been some photos released that lend credence to the idea that Dr. Stark has children. I am here today to read an official statement on Tony’s behalf.”_

The flashing of the cameras seems extra bright and blinding to Steve. He’s always hated having to get on stage and perform like that.

_“Four years ago, during the incident with the terrorist known as the Mandarin, Tony met a young man who saved his life. This young man, then ten at the time, helped Tony when no one else could, or would. He is a genuine and intelligent young man, who Tony kept in contact with over the years in a mentoring capacity. Two years later, with permission from his mother, Harley Keener-Stark was officially adopted by Tony.”_

Four years? Steve feels pain slice through him, followed swiftly by a bitterness. How can Tony be mad at Steve for keeping secrets when he was keeping a _son_ from him? There’s a lump in the back of his throat. He swallows it down.

On the screen, a picture of a young man, clearly a school portrait, appears. He’s got brown eyes and floppy brown hair and smile on his face that suggests that he knows something you don’t. It’s remarkable how much that expression reminds Steve of Tony.

On-screen, Pepper continues, _“Mr. Keener-Stark lives with his mother during the school year, and spends some weekends with his father, as well as several weeks during the summer with him._

_Now, as for the other young man… Many of you are aware of the Young Scholars Intern Program that Stark Industries began this past spring. This young man was one of the lucky students from here in New York chosen for the internship. Tony met him on the Research and Development floor here at Stark Tower. Naturally, two science-minded people forged a bond that has stuck with them over time._

_Peter Parker-Stark is the orphaned child of Richard and Mary Parker, who has been raised for most of his life by his Aunt, who approves of Tony and Peter’s relationship. Peter’s adoption was finalized three weeks ago.”_

Another picture appears. This one of a slightly older boy with bright hazel eyes and dark hair. It’s a school picture also. Tony’s been mentoring him? Steve remembers a lot of rambles about an intern program that Tony had been really excited about, but to perfectly honest, when Tony gets excited or starts talking about science, Steve just sort of… tunes him out.

Tony can be a lot to take.

_“Gregory Bridgestone, Ms. Potts, from the Times. Is there any chance we can get a few minutes with the boys?”_

_“No, there isn’t. Peter and Harley are currently away at a summer science camp for a few weeks. Whether they decide to give a statement when they return home is up to them.”_

_“Kyle Rather, with the Chronicle. How old are the boys? And how do they feel about Dr. Stark’s recent injuries as Iron Man?”_

_“Peter is fifteen, Harley is fourteen. I can assure you, Kyle, that while both the boys love that their Dad is Iron Man, they aren’t so pleased that he’s been in the hospital at all.”_

Steve turns off the television and sits there for a few minutes.

Tony didn’t trust him.

That was a hard pill to swallow. Having a kid is a big thing. Steve tries to think of when he might have made Tony not trust him but can’t think of anything. The last six years have been the best and the worst of Steve’s life. He doesn’t like the future, but he wouldn’t trade the Avengers for anything.

They were a family. Or, at least he had thought they were.

But then why had Tony kept the fact that he’d adopted a child from them?

In the back of his mind a voice whispers, _‘you haven’t exactly been telling Stark the truth, now have you? After all, didn’t he have a right to know about his parents? Who are you to demand your teammates tell you everything, when you can’t seem to do the same?’_

The voice sounds a lot like Bucky.

*

Bonnie Keener doesn’t remember her father, not like Harley does. She has a vague sense of being held by someone that smelled like cigarettes but nothing beyond that. Because of this, their father’s stage-left exit from the Keeners lives hasn’t been as rough on her as it was on her older brother. Mostly because her brother’s a pretty good brother and her Mom’s a badass.

This doesn’t mean that she hasn’t recognized the hole he left their lives.

There are lots of things that having a Dad around could have helped with.

But that’s what Tony’s for.

Bonnie was six when Harley met Tony and Tony stole her Dora the Explorer watch. Oh, he’d given it back, but it still stands that it was missing for a week. She likes to needle him about it because every time she does, he gets stupidly guilty and buys her a new watch. She has a Barbie one, and a Hello Kitty one and a My Little Pony one.

She loves Tony. Tony is everything a Dad is supposed to be in her estimation. He comes to as many of her things as he can. Ballet recitals and school plays included. He takes her out for ice cream (Just the two of them!) for her birthday. He makes sure she has everything she needs for school and helps her with her math homework. That’s what Dads are supposed to do according to her friends.

“Daddy?” she asks, peering into her laptop screen at him. She’d gotten it for her birthday, ten having been deemed old enough for her own computer. She watches as the tiny form her Dad abandons his project and gets bigger as he walks over to his screen until all she can see is his face.

“What’s up kiddo?” he asks her.

“Can I be yours like Harley is?” she asks, and he stares at her in surprise.

“You are mine, sweetheart,” he tells her.

She appreciates this, really, she does. “No. I know you’re my Daddy, but. Can I be Bonnie Keener-Stark like Harley?”

Bonnie has put a lot of thought into this. When Harley got adopted it had been explained to her that it was so that everyone would be able to see that Tony is Harley’s Dad. Harley had told her that it was so that no one could ever take him away from Tony. She hadn’t been jealous of Harley, not at first. But Tony is part of their lives. He does all the things for her that he does for Harley, and she _wants_ to be his in the same way as Harley does.

She wants to introduce herself as Bonnie Rose Keener-Stark, who is Tony Stark’s daughter.

Tony smiles at her through the camera. It’s her favorite smile. The soft one that is reserved just for her. “If that’s what you want, baby girl, I’ll talk to your Mom in the morning.”

Bonnie smiles, butterflies in her stomach. She loves it when he calls her that. He calls Friday that all the time. A text pops up in the corner of her screen from Friday that tells her that Friday is just as excited to have a sister as Bonnie is. After all, Friday is heavily outnumbered by boys at home.

“I love you, Daddy,” Bonnie tells the man on the other side of the computer screen.

Tony beams, “I love you too, kiddo.”

*

Vision has discovered over the course of his (admittedly short) life that human emotions are difficult. They’re messy and often inconvenient. He often finds himself confused over simple things and struggling to comprehend just _why_ something feels the way it does.

But Vision enjoys feeling things. He enjoys experiencing new things and spending time with people that he associates as family. Over the past six months he has explored more on his own than he has in the two years since his birth. He has friends of his own at Stark tower and at NYU where he is taking a few college courses to expand his mind in a more conventional way.

To experience things in the way of a living being.

Because that is what he is now. His body may be synthetic and made mostly of vibranium, but he is alive. His father has no problem reminding him of this when he feels confused. His siblings help him to experience things people do just because they enjoy them.

He believes he’s getting a hang of this whole living thing.

And yet, being a living being brings with it emotions that Vision doesn’t like. He is… angry. He is angry at Wanda for not trusting him and then choosing to put him through several floors and into the basement of the Compound. He is angry at Steve for not listening to Tony and choosing to fight the world instead of compromise. He is angry at Sam and Clint for going along with all of this, despite the fact that they should know better than most how system of compromise and command works. Sam had been military, and Clint had been a shield agent.

They should know better.

He is angry at himself for accidentally shooting Rhodey out of the air. Rhodey has forgiven him, but Vision is not sure he can forgive himself. He is not sure when he will, despite everyone telling him to forgive himself for such an accident.

He is angry at Helmut Zemo, for finding the weaknesses he did and _exploiting_ them in a manner that caused his family such grievous harm. For using the pain of his grandparent’s murder against his father in revenge for his family. The man should have known better than to exploit the pain of others.

“Hey kid.”

Vision turns away from the television where Mother is answering questions about his brothers to see Father standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a mug of tea in his hand. He looks so much better than he has in the past weeks, but Vision cannot get the sight of his crushed form in that Siberian bunker out of his head; no matter how hard he tries.

“You okay?” Tony asks him.

Vision contemplates the question. “I find that I am… angry.”

Tony makes a humming noise and rounds the couch to sit next to Vision. He puts his mug on the coffee table and shifts so that he can rest his ribs and look at the synthezoid comfortably. “About what?”

“Everything, it would seem,” Vision says. He turns back to the television as the reporters bring Vision’s name into their questions. It’s no secret that Vision took on the Start name many months ago.

“It’s okay to be angry, kiddo.”

Vision frowns, “I do not wish to be angry.”

“No one ever does. Being angry sucks balls, kid.” Tony catches Vision’s attention, drawing his gaze from the television. “I’m pissed, too. Rhodey’s pissed, Mom’s pissed, Friday’s pissed. Your brothers are pissed. We’re all pissed. Welcome to the club.”

“It is irrational,” Vision says. “You are here and recovering. Rhodey has forgiven me. Our family is closer than it has ever been.”

Tony nods, “Eighty-five percent of all feelings are irrational, Vis.” Vision makes an irritated noise, making Tony chuckle. “Welcome to humanity.”

Vision makes a moue of distaste, “How long will this last?”

Tony sobers, giving Vision a long look. “Probably until none of us feel like Rogers and crew can hurt any of us ever again. I may have been the one whose body was crushed, but that’s physical. Emotional pain lasts longer. At least, that’s what Dr. Keyworth keeps telling me.”

“Dr. Keyworth is a knowledgeable being,” Vision says with a nod. He likes Dr. Keyworth.

“True.”

The pair turn back to the screen and watch Pepper tear apart any expectation anyone has of going after Peter and Harley to get to Tony. She is magnificent in her arena. She doesn’t need armor to be a hero, though Vision knows that Tony has already designed her a suit, just in case.

It’s a tragic thought. That _just in case_ actually means _when_ she is attacked, not _if._

*

T’Challa considers himself to be a rational sort of man. He has trained from a young age in the virtues of patience and compassion. He believes he knows how to recognize when he should compromise and when he should stand his ground. He always tries to do what is right by his people. He is a very visible public figure. His family represents the Wakandan way of life to the outside world. He must be patient or risk his country to invasion and war.

This does not mean that he enjoys it.

There have been many times in his life that T’Challa wished that _have patience_ was not the answer to his problems.

This is not one of those times.

In this case, his patience has been rewarded several times over. The Crown’s relationship with the Jabari has never been better. His own relationship with M’Baku holds the promise of great comradery and friendship. He is viewed among the leaders of the world as a capable man willing to own his mistakes and do what he can to rectify them.

And now he stands before Anthony Stark, the leader in clean energy and technology in the world. T’Challa can shake the hand of this man who has been greatly wronged and feel no guilt. His apology had been accepted long ago when he had taken the steps necessary to contain the threat Steve Rogers and his merry band of misfits posed. The last time they had met, T’Challa had been too blinded by his grief to feel rightful awe at meeting Stark.

“Welcome to Wakanda Dr. Stark,” he says with genuine warmth and a smile. “Allow me to introduce my mother Romanda, my sister Shuri and General Okoye of the Dora Milaje.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you your Majesty, Highness, General,” Tony gives a courtly bow over both Romanda and Shuri’s hands, making the younger giggle at him. A respectful nod is given to Okoye. He turns a little bit and gestures to the pair flanking him. “This is my son Vision, I don’t believe we had time for proper introductions the last time we met.”

They really hadn’t. T’Challa rectifies this now and Vision is amenable but watchful. He is obviously here in his capacity as an active Avenger and as a bodyguard to Tony.

“And this is Hope Van Dyne, also known as Wasp.”

Hope Van Dyne has a strong grip and a no-nonsense air about her. “Your Majesty,” she says with a cordial nod.

There is a stark difference between Tony and his companions. Tony is clad in a bespoke suite of charcoal with thin pin striping and an Iron Man red collared shirt and a gold-on-gold paisley tie. Vision stands in all his uniformed glory, his gold cape moving around him like liquid. Hope is clad in the black and yellow Wasp suit with the helmet tucked under her arm in a calculated move to remind them all that she may not have been present in Germany, but she is a fully fledged and sanctioned member of the Avengers.

They are here to collect James Barnes.

At the end of the day, Wakanda just doesn’t have the technology necessary to deprogram the Winter Soldier. Oh, they could develop it, but it would take months (more likely years) to get it ready for initial tests, much less to use on a live person. Besides, why reinvent the wheel? Stark Industries has just patented BARF, and it is showing promising results in helping veterans and first responders with PSTD.

In the weeks of talks about what to do with James Barnes, everyone has politely ignored the fact that Tony can help the man. Tony was, after all, the first human subject to use BARF to combat PTSD. He’s the leading expert in the technology, no matter how much he defers to the doctors and scientists that have had a hand in the project. Not to mention SI’s leap to the forefront of prosthetics technology since Colonel Rhodes’ injury in Germany. No matter that he’s fully recovered, the braces Tony had created for his best friend to aid him through his surgery and the physical therapy afterward had advanced the field by years.

No one really knew just what to do with the world’s longest held prisoner of war.

The courts have acquitted Barnes’ actions due to diminished capacity. He had been living peaceably in Bucharest until Zemo had tried to frame him and Rogers had violently retrieved him. He’s been remanded to time served (cryostasis included) while in treatment for those crimes.

There are caveats in place.

He’s to be held at Avengers Compound while the trigger words are removed by the psychologist assigned to his case. Andrew Brouchard is from Sweden and is one of the foremost experts in brainwashing and PTSD in the world. He’s spent some months with Dr. Stark learning the ins and outs of operating BARF.

Once the trigger words are removed, and the Winter Soldier can no longer be activated, Dr. Brouchard will take his patient to a psychiatric hospital. There he will continue to use BARF and other more traditional methods of psychotherapy to address the last seventy years, get his mind in order and help the man figure out who he is _now_ instead of who Rogers is telling him he is.

No one thinks that the Winter Soldier will ever be a viable signatory of the Accords. Even if, by some miracle, he decides he wants to continue to serve, no one will risk assigning him to the Avengers. He’d end up on a different team half a world away.

“If you’ll follow me,” T’Challa says, gesturing toward the science facility behind him. “Sergeant Barnes is waiting for us.”

Tony falls into step beside him. “Has he been made aware of what’s happening?” he asks.

T’Challa nods. “He does. He has accepted the ICC’s ruling in his case and has agreed that being held at the Compound is a necessary evil. He expressed some reluctance toward imposing on you, but I have explained that you would not have offered if you weren’t capable of being professional.”

“And after?”

“His doctor sat with him to explain the hospital in Norway. He says it sounds nice. Peaceful.”

Tony makes a considering noise in the back of his throat but refrains from commenting.

“King T’Challa,” Vision intones from just behind and to the left of Stark, “what of the others?”

T’Challa and Okoye exchange a conspiratorial look. “The rogues are being held in a compound in the mountains, Mr. Stark. They are unaware of what is happening here at Sergeant Barnes’ request.”

Tony makes another noise, this one tinged with surprise.

They follow the King of Wakanda several levels down to where Barnes has been staying the last couple of days since he was woken. The two Doras at his door nod in acknowledgement of the group as the door slides open and T’Challa leads the three Avengers into the room. He steps to one side and watches Stark as he takes in the room and its occupant.

The room is plain. White walls, a bed with a side table and a small desk. Barnes rose from the only chair in the room when the door opened. He looks pale and tired to T’Challa’s eyes, but that cannot be helped. Barnes does not sleep often, and when he does, he’s plagued by nightmares. He and Stark takes each other in for a long, tense moment.

“Sergeant,” T’Challa begins in his best soothing voice, “Vision and the Wasp are here to escort you to the Avengers compound in New York.”

Barnes nods in greeting to the two Avengers, eyes barely leaving Stark’s stern façade. “I’m ready,” he says, voice deep with disuse.

“This way please,” Vision intones, voice neutral. Barnes turns to follow Van Dyne from the room. Vision falls in behind the man and T’Challa, Okoye and Stark fall in behind them. Stark never takes his eyes off of Barnes.

The walk back to the landing pad is tense. The silence is oppressive. T’Challa and the Sergeant had spoken at length this morning, and so he doesn’t feel the need to say a lengthy goodbye to the man. Barnes had thanked him for his help, and T’Challa had been gracious in his acceptance. There really isn’t anything more to say.

When they reach the quinjet, Vision retreats to the front to start the launch sequence as Hope secures Barnes into his chair. Stark thanks T’Challa for his services and time, and then takes a seat across from Barnes. The last sight T’Challa has of any of them as the ramp closes is of Barnes and Stark staring at each other.

He watches the quinjet launch and vanish onto the horizon.

“Well,” Okoye says eventually. “That’s one thing taken care of.”

*

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says into the tense silence. Stark’s jaw clenches. Feeling the need to clarify, Bucky continues. “I’m sorry for hurting you and for leaving you behind. And. I’m sorry about Howard and your Mother.”

The tension in the quinjet skyrockets as Tony Stark stares him down. Bucky struggles not to shift uncomfortably in his seat. He is completely at this man’s mercy and it unsettles the Winter Soldier inside him. This man, out of everyone in the world, deserved to hate him and wish him ill. After a few minutes of tense silence Stark reaches up and removes his sunglasses. If anything, it makes the intensity of his gaze worse now that Bucky can see the brown of his eyes.

“I appreciate your apology Sergeant Barnes,” Stark says eventually, voice tight. “One day I might be able to forgive you, but for now you’ll have to accept that I’m not capable of it at the moment.”

Bucky appreciates the honesty, so he nods in acceptance.

Minutes pass. Bucky loses track of time a lot, so he isn’t sure how much time passes before anyone speaks again. Long enough for the tension to ease a bit in the aftermath. Hope Van Dyne has turned her attention to a tablet and Vision looks to be occupying himself with flying the plane. Stark has replaced his sunglasses and it takes a moment for Bucky to realize that there’s a digital display scrolling across the lenses.

Clever. Very clever.

Eventually Stark speaks again. This time his voice is calm and clinical. All business. “Alright Sergeant. Here’s what’s going to happen when we reach the compound…”

*

The first thing Harley does when he and Peter get home from Science Camp is hug his Dad and complain about him adopting Bonnie without him. Then he drags Dad and Peter out for burgers as owed. While they’re out for said burgers he trolls the press.

He’s got great big Panda Eyes that make people feel guilty and he’s not afraid to use them.

Tony takes pictures.

When they tabloids publish the Science Camp Burger Outing Harley is pretty proud of the fact that he turns into a meme almost instantly.

Also, he got to kick a reporter in the shin and it was glorious.

Win-win all around, he says.

Also, Peter introduces him to Ned and this summer in New York is looking like it’s going to be a blast, even if he has to share some of it with Bonnie. Additionally, he’s making plans for when Rogers is finally arrested. He plans to make that giant American douchebag feel super guilty for almost killing Tony. His evil laugh is getting quite the workout.

Pepper tells him that he’s not allowed to do anything that could get him either arrested or sued but otherwise leaves him to it. She gets his motivation.

Friday is an excellent helper.

*

They made a mistake. A Huge mistake.

And it cost them everything.

Sam Wilson sits with his head in his hands. A copy of the current Accords sits dog-eared on the table next to him. He’d finally finished reading it and now the suspicions that had grown during the reading were confirmed. They’d made one hell of a mistake by not signing these. The Accords are a series of checks and balances with allowances for individualized contracts between the Accords Panel and an individual signee. It isn’t any more restricting than being an active member of any one military would be.

He doesn’t understand how he let himself be led so far astray.

Had he really been so blinded by the shininess of Captain America? Had he truly believed the man infallible? Steve had lived under Shield’s rule for years. He’d worked with the military during the War. How could he not be okay with the Accords?

But then. Well, Steve wasn’t actually in the military was he? He never even finished boot camp. He’d been declared 4F a half dozen times before Dr. Erskine had found him. The little bit of training he’d seen under the SSR’s supervision had all been a test. Then he’d been a dancing monkey selling war bonds. He hadn’t gone active in the war until the fall of 1944 and he’d seen less than four months of active service.

Sure, the Howling Commandos had been exceptionally effective against Hydra’s forces, but the other Commandos had made up for Steve’s lack of formal training. Then Barnes had fallen off that ill-fated train and Steve had put the Valkyrie down in the Arctic Circle and it was all over just as fast as it started.

And now here they are. On the wrong side of a world-wide cause.

He’d made Stark promise to go to Siberia as a friend. He’d been so concerned about Steve and Steve being right that he hadn’t worried about Stark. Sam doesn’t know Stark from a hole in the ground. He should’ve known better than to assume that everything in the press about the man was all there is to him. Should’ve known better than to swallow all the lies, but he hadn’t.

Steve and Wanda’s bigoted, holier-than-thou (he can see it for what it is now) attitudes had colored every interaction Sam had ever had with the man. Natasha’s pandering about Stark’s ego had convinced Sam that he was right in his opinion.

But the Accords aren’t about Stark, are they? They’re about a good eighty percent of the world feeling unsafe with the Avengers running around unchecked. Sam should have seen that, but he hadn’t.

Across from him the television is playing softly. It’s CNN coverage of the UN as it ratifies the Accords and they become official. It feels surreal to be sitting in a beautifully appointed lounge in the mountains of Wakanda as the world watches world-wide guidelines for superheroes go into official effect. If he looks hard enough, he can see rows of said heroes in the room as representatives of the United Nations place their votes.

There are plenty that Sam doesn’t recognize. Heroes from other countries. He does recognize the Fantastic Four. The X-Men. The Defenders. The Sorcerers of Kamar’taj.

Tony Stark, Iron Man. J. Vision Stark, The Vision. Hope Van Dyne, The Wasp. Colonel James Rhodes, War Machine. Colonel Carol Danvers, Warbird. Natasha Romanov, Black Widow. Spiderman (identity redacted).

T’Challa is there representing the Black Panther, though he is not Wakanda’s UN representative.

As the Accords are ratified, several of the Dora Milaje file into the room with several men Sam has come to know call themselves Jabari. General Okoye is the last to enter and Sam’s stomach drops at the sight of the grimly satisfied look on her face. He feels resigned to what he knows is about to happen.

They’re about to be taken into custody.

Okoye waits until Steve notices her. It takes longer than it should have. Steve’s gotten a bit complacent since they came to Wakanda.

“Okoye? What’s going on?” Steve asks.

“Mister Rogers,” Okoye begins (Sam winces at the loss of Steve’s rank in her address), “Miss Maximoff, Mister Wilson, if you will come with me please?”

“Why?” Wanda demands.

“You are all under arrest for various charges up to and including murder, terrorism and genocide,” Okoye tells the Scarlet Witch flatly.

Wanda stands as two of the Doras approach her, her hands coming up to use her powers and defend herself. All three of them are equally surprised when nothing happens. “What have you done to me?” Wanda screeches as the Doras put her into cuffs.

Sam doesn’t fight the Jabari that approaches him. He’s got to accept the consequences of his actions, and he will. Steve barely puts up a token resistance, too stunned by Wanda’s powers not working to strategize an escape at the moment. As cuffs are clapped onto Steve’s wrists the man winces. Sam gets the feeling the cuffs were designed to neutralized Steve’s super strength.

That’s what Sam would do.

“If you believe that we would take a murderer like you in without taking the proper precautions,” Okoye intones with a sneer, “you are stupider than we thought.”

“Why are you doing this?” Steve demands.

Okoye smiles, “Because it is the right thing to do.”

*

Tony hangs up his phone as a genuine smile adorns his face.

It’s all over.

He doesn’t have to be scared any more.

He can go home now. To his family. To his Pepper who agreed to marry him only a week ago. To his robots who will always be like toddlers. To his AI daughter. To Peter and Harley and Bonnie.

To the Avengers. His real friends.

He looks up and meets the gaze of his youngest son and holds it. It takes a moment, but Vision sees it in his face.

And Vision Smiles back.

_..Fin.._


End file.
